


Pokémon Dark

by TheEnvy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Blood and Gore, Body Image, Creepy, Dark Character, Dark Past, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Drama, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Dubious Morality, Epic Battles, Epic Friendship, Epic Love, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hate Crimes, Heart-to-Heart, Heartache, Heartbreaking, Hope vs. Despair, Horror, Human Trafficking, Identity Issues, Kinky, Legendary Pokemon - Freeform, Love/Hate, Misery, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Moral Lessons, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Nudity, Original Character(s), Pain, Painful Sex, Past Torture, Philosophy, Physical Abuse, Plot Twists, Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon Journey, Power Dynamics, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Psychic Violence, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Revenge, Romance, Sadism, Scary, Secret Identity, Serial Killers, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Identity, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Soul Bond, Soul-Crushing, Soul-Searching, Tears, Touchy-Feely, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, True Love, Truth, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:19:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 123,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEnvy/pseuds/TheEnvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Rocket & Team Plasma are planning something sinister with their new Ultimate Weapon. But are they behind the slew of disappearances? Pokemon Trainers everywhere are vanishing without a trace. What's happening to them? </p><p>Lucian is the illegitimate 19-year old son of Sabrina, the Mistress of Psychic Pokémon. Throughout his young life, he has never been able to cope with his agonizing Psychic abilities. Because of his deep internal turmoil, never once has Lucian owned a Pokémon.</p><p>Everything changes when Lucian discovers his mother has been taken. </p><p>Romance, misery, twists galore, collusion, violence, vengeance, horror, redemption, Mewtwo, & Gardevoir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Project B.E.A.S.T.

The scientists called it, B.E.A.S.T.

Bipedal

Electronic

Animarum

Spirit

Tomb

It was the pinnacle of both Team Rocket and Team Plasma’s technological prowess. The end result of their most prodigious triumphs. A weapon of mass destruction whose wielders hoped would have no equal.  

Final conception of Project Beast occurred two years prior. However, long had Team Rocket held an interest in blending bionic technology with what they deemed to be paranormal. With a horde of challenges present in the field of genetics, a few minds and a modest amount of money were directed to explore alternatives. After the Mewtwo fiasco, an interest in these alternatives skyrocketed.

As they embarked on this new research in the early 21st century, Team Rocket quickly discovered that supernatural was every bit as operose as science. In truth, uncovering the mysteries linking Ghost Pokémon to the human soul would prove even more complex.

Agatha, the disgraced former member of the Indigo Elite Four assisted Team Rocket in its preliminary efforts. Her insight got the supernatural feature of their experiment on its feet and running. According to the Ghost type aficionado, there was a subtle link between certain Ghost Pokémon and the soul. It was she who theorized they could create Ghost Pokémon through the extraction of the human soul. Unfortunately, Agatha’s staunch conviction sealed her own fate. So sure she was that they could replicate a powerful Ghost Pokémon from a human soul, she personally volunteered for the procedure. The trial resulted not only in failure, but her untimely demise. Agatha’s passing was an enormous blow to Team Rocket’s overall aptitude and duly, their ambitions.      

It was not until much later, when Team Rocket secretly allied with Team Plasma that both their fortunes changed for the better. Like Team Rocket, Team Plasma had been battered to the point of desperation. Both teams were in ruin and on the edge of collapse.

Concerning Team Rocket’s downfall, the responsibility in its entirety could be placed on the shoulders of a single person. Out of all the meddling kids who had disrupted their operations, Red had always been the most perceptive, the most persistent, and without doubt the most corrosive to everything they hoped to achieve. He was much more than a pain in the ass. From Team Rocket’s political and military campaigns to their enormously lucrative business operations in Human Trafficking and Pokémon Trafficking, he was there, everywhere it seemed, spoiling everything. Years after their first major defeat, after Team Rocket slunk to the shadows, their ambitions curbed and operations circumspect, Red persevered, determined to finish the job he started, bent on their extinction, their total annihilation. Red wasn’t going to stop until they were wiped off the map. The other kids grew up into conventional adults, vesting their time, energy, and Pokémon in more normal ventures. They pursued fame or fortune or glory or all of them combined. They got married and had children. They focused on their Pokémon battling prowess and augmenting their leisure time.

Red was different. It was like he was a machine programmed with a single purpose. He didn’t care about fame. He cared nothing for fortune. The only glory he desired was furtive justice. Leisure and entertainment never appeared to be on his to-do list. All he wanted was to bring about Team Rocket’s end. It seemed like he was the only one who could. Or perhaps, who would.   

Like Team Rocket, Team Plasma had been harried and beaten before being torn apart piece by piece. Most people didn’t know the truth, but Cynthia wasn’t the only one who contributed to Team Plasma’s successive routs. Red was a major player as well, his presence heavily downplayed, almost overlooked entirely by the public and governments alike. Team Plasma’s officials knew the truth. Red, the shadowy and seemingly invincible phenom was one of their most grievous enemies. The same, of course, could be said for Team Rocket.  

So deliciously ironic then, that this Legend catalyzed their rebirth, the alliance between Team Rocket and Team Plasma.

When Giovanni and Ghetsis combined their man-power, Pokémon, and other resources, they vowed to remain united until all threats were neutralized. Granted, each team boasted fundamentally different ideologies. Nonetheless, it was with their mutual enemy that they discovered solidarity.

When Giovanni introduced to Ghetsis what would later become Project Beast, the Plasma chief was pleasantly surprised by Team Rocket’s ingenuity. To Giovanni’s delight, his new partner picked up where Agatha left off.

By themselves, Team Rocket had been unable to ascertain Ghost Pokémon’s relation to man. Ghetsis’ vast knowledge, insight, and theories on the soul got the ball rolling again. This was when Project Beast was born.

The “A” in B.E.A.S.T. stood for anima: the soul. Through trial and error, scientists from both Team Rocket and Team Plasma discovered that the human mind could not survive without the soul. The soul, on the other hand, could indeed survive without the mind. If done correctly, extracting a soul from its host, from its body and mind, did not cause inclusive death. In its stead, a Ghost type Pokémon was born, a creature known as Yamask. It was a delicate shred of life, something lying on the very fringes of existence, surviving with little rationale or mental machinations at all. It was almost like a clean slate, a new piece of life waiting to be imprinted.

But not entirely. The soul retained horribly fragmented memories in addition to the original nature of its host, the singular trait exhibited by all Pokémon. Originally, Giovanni planned on extracting single powerful souls, creating several exquisite Yamasks which they would then metamorphose into more powerful weapons. Ghetsis had another proposal. He recommended using many souls, animarum, to create a single singular entity, the Ultimate Weapon. There was a caveat to doing this, however. Even a single human anima could prove very dangerous.

Their prized-possession, the Grand Anima they called it, was the source of this potential danger. Several souls, Ghetsis contended, or dozens tossed into the melting pot would dilute the negative qualities inherent in the Grand Anima while keeping its positive attributes intact. Inevitably, Giovanni approved of his logic, and Beast’s final conception became a reality.

Within Yamask, the soul could be preserved and then bonded to another organism without a soul, or as they correctly postulated, a Pokémon with room to spare. Spiritomb had 108 slots available for inclusion. All they required were the right ingredients and a Spiritomb worthy of the renovation.

The final elements were composed of 107 trustworthy souls all sacrificed in order to placate the various idiosyncrasies of the main ingredient, the Grand Anima. These items were placed in the powerful Spiritomb Team Rocket managed to pilfer from a very prestigious trainer. The might of the “Spiritomb” was represented in the final two letters of the acronym B.E.A.S.T, the “S” and the “T.”

Beast was their ultimate creation. The Ultimate Weapon; a mixture of man and Pokémon and machine.  

Building Beast’s body was one of the concluding steps to the project. The “E” in B.E.A.S.T. represented “Electronics.” The mechanical body required an enormous amount of technological engineering and innovation in robotics, and of course enough monetary resources to build, refine, and perfect it. Blaine, the Team Rocket scientist whose expertise and genetic material helped finalize the Mewtwo experiment, could not be persuaded to assist in their new effort, much to Giovanni’s dismay. It was no matter. Team Plasma had erected the Mythical creature Genesect, a dual Bug/Steel type Pokémon. Once again, Team Plasma’s expertise, this time on cybernetics, proved invaluable to Beast’s finalization.

The “B” in B.E.A.S.T meant “Bipedal.” Standing upright, Beast was an imposing six-and-a-half feet tall, its frame supporting its spherical Ghostly ‘head,’ the contents of which were concealed. Designed to look like a man, Beast was fitted with a cybernetic endoskeleton, of which it was granted complete control. All four limbs, the arms and legs, were entirely mechanical underneath. The contemporary plan was to graft synthetic skin and even muscle tissue to sheath its metallic body. They had already given it a face – eyes, nose, lips, even ears and hair. Due to a slew of concerns regarding aesthetics, they were not quite satiated with its appearance. While the scientists continued to adjust its exterior, Giovanni elected to shroud it in apparel: a thick black hooded cloak and armored leggings and gauntlets.

The purpose of giving it a humanoid appearance was simple. Team Rocket was never trying to create the ultimate Pokémon, not after Mewtwo’s duplicity and later Genesect’s failures. This time, Team Rocket and Team Plasma attempted to assemble something far more potent: the ultimate Pokémon trainer, one with unmatched Pokémon battling prowess, the ability to defend itself if need be, and most importantly of all, an entity with fanatical loyalty to its creators.

Beast had exceeded everyone’s expectations. Really, its only flaw was that it was awfully shy. In fact, until the previous night no one had heard it make a peep. It had never spoken to anyone, ever, even when ordered to do so.  

Furthermore, it didn’t even speak to the Pokémon it used for battle. And yet, it had yet to lose.  Beast never complained. It never disobeyed, save for its bewildering muteness. Besides that, Beast had done everything they ever asked.

That is, until the night before.

Beast was currently in its holding cell. It was a small room with a one-way glass mirror, allowing scientists, researchers, and those with a special clearance to view the instrument, study it, watch it. Within the larger adjacent space, their main laboratory, most of the researchers and technicians were dressed in stark white coats as they went about their business. They were there conducting analyses and performing perennial examinations pertaining to Beast, as well as human and Pokémon souls. Some of them were scrutinizing test tubes or looking through microscopes. Others had test subjects lying on tables, a few of them awake and aware, others motionless bodies under the effects of Hypnosis. A few personnel were tending to the Yamasks, whom were weeping quietly as they gaped at their masks, replicas of their former human faces.  

Three of the four Team Rocket Executives were there too. Clustered around the one-way mirror, they were observing Beast as it remained in pseudo-captivity. Archer and Ariana wore white attire, signifying their signature status. Proton was also present, clad in black. All three Generals were no doubt wondering what could have gone wrong. The indulgence of yesterday’s victory had been ebbed by the ensuing disaster.      

In those long bionic arms, the three Rocket Executives noticed that Beast was holding someone; a woman with pale skin and long black hair. She lay there silent and inert, almost lifeless like a doll. After a series of Pokémon battles the night before, Beast had gone on a rampage, evidently traveling hundreds of miles to Kanto to abduct this woman, who seemed to be in a deep sleep. Being part Pokémon, Beast knew several attacks, of course. One of them was Hypnosis.  

“It defeated the Unova Elite Four, yesterday,” Archer muttered.

“The Boss will be pleased with that,” Proton said, his tone one of positivity and optimism. He hadn’t a clue how much Archer despised him.    

“Indeed, gentleman,” Ariana said, “but that’s not why we’re here.”

“True,” Archer admitted sullenly. Seconds later, momentous thoughts provoked a smile. “Beast crushed Iris’ dragons. Still, I wish Cynthia could have been there to face it instead. Can you imagine?”

“Would have been ironic,” Ariana said, rolling her eyes.

“She hasn’t been seen publically in weeks,” Archer continued, hoping to keep the topic off of their pending predicament. “Where do you think she is now?”

“Looking for us, no doubt,” Ariana shrugged. “She’s pissed. We stole one of her prized Pokémon.”

“True, true. Hey, maybe she’s the one who burned down the Big Riddle Inn!”

“Her? Twenty-eight people died in that fire. She’s not that vindictive.”

Archer grunted. “I was making a joke.”

When the double doors flew open across the room, all three Generals jumped.

It was just Petrel. “H-h-haaaay – what’s-width all tha ruckus?” he stammered, striding towards them. He was sloshed. The others all exuded a collective sigh of relief. As much as they adored the Boss, this was not to be a meeting filled with jovial celebration. They were tense.

“You’re lucky you got here before he did,” Ariana remarked, anxiously raking through her red hair.

“Yah, and ur lucky ur sweeping with him,” Petrel replied, slobber flying every-which-way.  

Silence ensued for several moments. Ariana glowered at Petrel relentlessly, who was too busy to notice while picking the wax out of his ear. Archer could only suppress his laughter for so long. Once it came out, it spewed like lava from a Camerupt. At the thought of the Boss entering and discovering even a modicum of merriment from him, he quickly recollected his cool. For several minutes, quiet reigned once more.

Ironically, the introverted Proton was the one to slash it away.

“Has the boss been informed of, you know, at least the gist?”

Archer shrugged. “He is aware.”

“Giovanneeknowseverything,” Petrel sang as he swayed his arms and ass around.

“I wouldn’t say I’m omniscient,” a low voice grumbled far across the room. The double doors were wide open, having not made a sound, and in the doorway was Giovanni, his crimson suit matching his severe temperament. At the sight of him, the four Rocket Executives bowed in genuine veneration, as did every single scientist and researcher present. A beefy blue Polywrath slowly, carefully drove the elderly Boss forward, who sat with a rigid posture in his wheelchair.

“Giovanni,” the lot of them bellowed in harmony before prostrating deeply once more. The Boss held up an open hand, granting them permission to stand at ease. As the Polywrath pushed the Boss closer, he spoke.  

“Petrel, your breath is pungent. I can smell it from here.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the drunkard said, saluting. Every single day that went by Archer wondered how the guy hadn’t been demoted to a grunt. That, or reduced to a Yamask and placed inside the mighty Spiritomb. He was a loyal specimen, at least. Undying loyalty was one of the main ingredients they sought to insert into the Spiritomb. It was the most important trait Beast needed to exhibit to offset the duplicity of its primary essence, the Grand Anima. Every single Yamask inhabiting the Spiritomb contributed to its power and personality. Some souls were more useful than others. Some souls were stronger, more robust, and more distinct. The quality of the Yamask and its potential traits were measured by the scientists. 

Polywrath rolled the Boss a few meters from the Rocket Executives before coming to a halt. “Apparently there’s been some excitement this morning,” Giovanni said, his piercing black eyes judicious as they inspected his four petrified Generals. “Is that correct, Archer? I recall placing you in charge of Beast last night.”

Archer nodded solemnly, but then uttered, “It’s not my fault, Sir.” His fright was not unreasonable. Last time Archer gravely disappointed the Boss, he lost his right hand. Literally. Archer would never forget the day Giovanni’s Rhydon slowly grinded it down to a stump of bone using Horn Drill. After his punishment and concurrent demotion, Archer strove with newfound zealotry to regain the Boss’s approval. For there was something that surpassed his fear; it was the frustration he found with his own failure. The responsibility of Beast belonged to all four Rocket Generals, but it was not allocated equally. Archer had been steering the reins on this project for quite some time, almost single-handedly, and he greatly appreciated the renewed faith the Boss had placed in him. Once again, Archer had risen through the ranks to become Giovanni’s right-hand man.   

Bowing his head, he said, “Forgive me, Sir. This is the first major problem we have encountered with Beast’s sentience. I hope it will be our last, as well.”             

“Fine, Archer, but don’t spare any details. I want to know everything.”

“Of course,” Archer exclaimed, grasping his stub of a right hand with his good one. “It all started yesterday evening, after Beast defeated the Unova Elite Four and became the Champion. It won, almost effortlessly, might I add. Absolute desecration! Typing didn’t even matter. It beat Marshal’s Throh with a Furret. A Normal type beat a Fighting type. It was unreal.”

“I am aware of that,” Giovanni said with sedation. “I watched it compete while having some whiskey with Ariana, here. It was a pleasant evening, wouldn’t you agree?” He nodded in her direction.

“It was lovely, dear,” Ariana replied, grinning. Taking his comment as permission to abscond away from the others, as well as any blame, she strolled over next to his wheel-chair. When her eyes met his gaze, that smile widened. Giovanni did not return the gesture.

“Glad to hear it,” Archer squeaked. “Very glad to hear it, Sir!”

Giovanni’s eyes narrowed. “Please, continue Archer. I’m waiting.”

Archer nodded. “After its victory and induction into the Unova Hall of Fame, we rendezvoused with it behind the local Pokémon Center. Everything had gone according to plan. Beast is extremely intelligent, Giovanni, Sir. Its autonomy, in my opinion, is its greatest asset, one of our greatest achievements.” He motioned to the assortment of technicians and scientists who were trying their hardest to appear concentrated and competent. “Maybe _the_ greatest achievement. We never experienced any issues, Sir, any at all, up until then. Minus its refusal to speak, Beast had followed all orders without objection or even a semblance of hesitation.”

“Get to the point. I want objective details, not pedantic jargon.”    

Archer nodded weakly. “It…spoke, Boss, Giovanni, Sir,” he said at last.    

If Giovanni was surprised by that information, only his raised eye-brows hinted at it. Beforehand, Beast had remained ubiquitously silent. At first, they were more than a little concerned. How could it command Pokémon if it couldn’t speak? They had built a vocal apparatus specifically designed for it to communicate and issue orders to Pokémon. Subsequent trials inferred that it wasn’t that it could not talk, but that it refused. Moreover, the only direct order it disobeyed was its repudiation to speech. The only reason they did not deem Beast a failure was its mastery over captured Pokémon. How it was collaborating with them their scientists had yet to understand.             

“What did the weapon articulate?” Giovanni asked.

“According to reliable sources, it said and I quote: We must save her.” Archer gulped audibly. “End of quote. After it said those words, that’s when it went AWOL. One of our grunts attempted to put it back in its Pokéball, our Master Ball, and it…well, he is dead, Sir.”

Giovanni’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

“How was this grunt killed?”

“They contend Beast did not make contact with him physically. Our coroner is performing an autopsy just to be sure, but we suspect it used a Dark attack.”

Giovanni gave the one-way glass mirror a side-long glance. “How did you track it down?”

“After it escaped, we ordered it to return to base. We never stopped commanding it to come back. Eventually it did. With her.” He pointed through the glass at Beast and the passive woman it grasped in its arms.

“I assume she was in the Unova region at the time?”   

Archer shook his head. “Beast nabbed her from the Gym in Saffron City.”

“That’s preposterous!” Giovanni roared, scowling. Nearly everyone in that giant space, all four Executives and the dozens of scientists and technicians, shuddered.      

“It’s true, Boss,” Archer said, his voice on edge. “Beast traveled from Unova to Kanto within the span of approximately one-half hour, no more than two. We’re not sure how fast it’s able to move, but its handlers were unable to keep pace with it. It can levitate and pass through solid objects unabated.”  

Giovanni was livid. He glanced around him, his black eyes discerning an atmosphere of ineptitude. “I want these scientists to reexamine its speed stat, Archer. Today.”

The General’s head bobbled forward so hard he became dizzy. “Yes, Giovanni, Sir!”

“Polywrath!”  

“Poli,” the muscly blue Pokémon reverberated.

“I’d like to take a closer look.”

Polywrath nodded in understanding. It calmly, meticulously guided the man in the wheel chair forward. “Farther, keeping going – STOP!” Giovanni’s paralyzed legs were inches from the glass wall. As ineffective as it was to contain the creature, which was part Ghost thanks to the Spiritomb, that wall was the only thing separating them from it.           

Peering through, Beast was standing on its knees thirty feet away, its body lathered in a dark hooded robe. One of its gauntleted hands appeared to be groping the woman’s face. Upon closer inspection, long, metallic fingers were intertwined in her black hair.   

“It appears Sabrina will be rejoining Team Rocket after all,” Giovanni said quietly. “I always knew she would change her mind. First the Ninja Master and now we have the Psychic Mistress. Still, I have concerns. Contact Ghetisis at an appropriate time later this morning. Tell him I wish to speak with him this afternoon. Our weapon requires new management, and I have the ideal trio in mind.”

He turned his head and attention to the red-haired woman by his side. “Has the media caught wind of this?”

Public dissection and deception was Ariana’s domain. “There’s no story,” she said. “It appears no one witnessed Sabrina’s abduction.”

“Good. Will her disappearance ignite suspicion of our resurgence?”

Ariana shook her head assertively. “This should be a non-issue. We are as safe now as we were when she was a traitor too scared to go to the Police for fear of self-incrimination. Really, our most pressing concerns are still vigilantism. We know that Cynthia is actively working against us. However, she isn’t the only one. According to Jessie and James, one of our weapon shipments was hit again last night in Kalos. No one was harmed, but five Machamps were stolen along with two Conkeldurr. Who is behind these thefts we have yet to determine. Most alarming of all is what happened in Kanto on Cinnabar Island. It’s been a month since the fire and the authorities still can’t identify all of the bodies, but we know many who perished were supporters of Team Rocket. Four of them were among our most generous donors. Butch and Cassidy’s deaths are now confirmed, as well, Sir. We’ve downplayed its significance to public, but I cannot emphasize this enough: that was a deliberate, malicious attack on us by somebody _in the know_ and we have yet to–”

“–Stay on point,” Giovanni interrupted. “We will discuss these thefts and the Blaine fallout later. The topic is Sabrina.”   

“Alright,” Ariana said, sighing, her passion downgraded considerably. “Like I said, it’s a non-issue. I’ll make sure of it. Listen, everybody loves to gossip. The public is far more captivated by the fabled status of celebrities like Sabrina and Janine, gods in their eyes, than the notion they’ve gone missing…and might not be coming back soon. Look at Red. The son of a bitch devoted his life to stopping us. For a long time, he was very successful. So why did he fail? Our alliance with Team Plasma played a major role, but let’s remember that in our two-decades long war with Red we fought against a single man. The Police were handing out traffic tickets. The politicians bickered. As for everyone else, they simply had better things to do.    

“They’re all too busy keeping pace with the fluidity of modernity to pay attention. Sabrina is a celebrity, a household name, sure. Everybody knows who she is. But in time, she will fade. All stars fade. People stop caring. Then they forget completely.” Ariana dared to place a hand on Giovanni’s arm. “Just like they forgot about us, dear.”        

His twinkling black eyes were pointed forward again, focused intently on what laid beyond the glass wall. He almost seemed to be in a kind of trance. Not once did Archer see those eyes of his blink.  

“Soon, we will make them remember. When that happens, those fools will wonder how they could ever have turned a blind eye to Team Rocket.” The others nodded in unanimous approval. At long last, Giovanni’s solemn face broke into a tiny tight-lipped grin.

“Boss, if I may.”

It was Proton. He was quiet but not usually this quiet. Archer knew he had something up his sleeve, the bastard, always surreptitious about his ass-kissing.  

“By all means, Proton,” Giovanni said, nodding.

Clearing his throat, Proton said, “Sabrina has a son by the name of Lucian. He lives in Saffron City with her.”

“Does he really?” The Boss sounded surprised, as if that was an omission on his part. “And?”

“And, well, I was wondering if it would be prudent to bring him here. Concerning Sabrina, her abilities could be an invaluable asset if we could _persuade_ her to utilize them for us. Her son would serve as collateral, much like Janine with Koga.”

“Very well, Proton. Since it was your idea, I’ll leave you in charge.”

Proton nodded eagerly. “It should be a simple kidnapping, depending on the strength of the Pokémon he has at his disposal.”

Giovanni frowned. “Team Rocket has nothing to fear, not anymore. Still, we are not yet ready to be openly aggressive. I want this handled delicately. If you make haste, chances are you won’t need to resort to any violence.”

Proton checked the time. His Holo Caster said it was, “3:07am.” This Lucian was likely in his bed, fast asleep, and thus very vulnerable. Oh, how he adored the Boss’s infinite cunning. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Koga. May I borrow Koga?” he asked brusquely.

“By all means,” Giovanni said, waving his hand and effectively giving Proton the green light to excuse himself to do whatever he deemed necessary. Archer glowered enviously as he paced through the exit.

Deductions swam through Proton’s mind like a school of Magikarp. Koga was already stationed in Kanto. He could infiltrate the residence and apprehend the poor sap while he was snoozing. A little sleeping power and the boy would stay that way. In the unlikely scenario that Koga failed to use subtlety and had to resort to brutality, he was an expert trainer and Elite Four member, the Ninja Master. His work would be quick and clean regardless. This kid, Lucian, was unaccomplished. Aside from being Sabrina’s kid, he was a virtual unknown.

 _Is that a problem_ , Proton wondered?

He had done his homework, which didn’t require much effort. It also didn’t cultivate much data. The Internet offered very little information regarding the son of the celebrity Sabrina. All Proton had gleaned was the name, Lucian, an age of nineteen, a Valentine’s Day birthday, and the fact that Sabrina was his mother. According to public records, he was her only child. Considering her unmarried status, the kid was a bastard. But that was an insignificant detail. Now, the fact that Lucian was the progeny of Sabrina, the Mistress of Psychic Pokémon, that was worth mulling over. There was no doubt her son would have at least one Psychic Pokémon along with him. Perhaps an entire arsenal. It struck Proton suddenly that this was a giant red flag. Koga was adroit and seasoned, his Pokémon as well, but all of them were of the Poison variant. If pitted against Psychic types, Koga would be at a severe disadvantage. 

The answer was obvious: quantity over quality. Nobody said he had to play fair. If Koga failed to do it alone, a deluge of grunts would turn the tide in their favor. He would ensure they were equipped with Dark type Pokémon, as well. It wouldn’t matter how many Psychic Pokémon Lucian threw out; they were no match for Dark.

Proton didn’t stop there. He methodically considered every avenue.

There was a thunderstorm in Saffron City. It was reportedly raining, heavily too. Proton would ensure his grunts had a Water type Pokémon on hand, just in case.

With his plans ready for execution, Proton contacted Koga using his Holo Caster.

“Koga. It’s Proton.”

“I can see that,” Koga replied in his gruff voice. “You’re up early.”  

“Shut-up, Koga. I’ve got a job for you.”


	2. Knock! Knock!

Lucian’s favorite hobby was sleeping. For him, a perfect twenty-four hour period consisted of lying comatose on his mattress throughout the night. And most of the day too. Fuck the sun. He once read that some people experienced difficulty falling asleep. Insomnia was a common condition, remedied by the soft lullabies of Jigglypuff. Lucian was different than some people, though. Most people too. As he did most days, he could lie in bed sound-asleep fifteen hours straight. It was his greatest talent.  

Oh, and he was also Psychic. It was a congenital gift, passed onto him by his mother, Sabrina.

A gift. Ha! He had always thought of it as a curse; an illness he had never been able to conquer. It was the singular-most reason he had never once in all nineteen of his years owned a Pokémon. Sure, there were other Psychic’s in the world. His mother, Sabrina, was one of the most powerful and renowned. They seemed to do just fine with their Pokémon. In fact, the telepathic link between a Psychic human and a Psychic Pokémon was supposed to be something special. Lucian could never grasp how others managed. Bonding with Pokémon, as he had once done, was a horribly painful experience.     

Rarely had he ever come into direct contact with them. Pokémon. He couldn’t. It’s why he almost never left home. It had always been too much for his sensitive mind and volatile emotions to bear. Sometimes, when he was asleep, Lucian dreamt of them. Pokémon, the few he had met, clouded his mind, memories from years past, haunting him evermore. Being in bed more than half the day, his sleep became deep and his soul spawned fierce dreams. Unlike most people, he remembered them quite vividly.  

There was one dream that always seemed to infiltrate his slumber. It was about her; the Pokémon he had bonded with many years ago. Everything was hazy at first, dank and dark. And then, he would see them. Like blue stars, they flickered amidst the darkness. There were six of them. Always six, never more, never less. Out of nowhere, a trill breeze would sweep through, and the stars blinked away, never to return. In their stead, however, a Pokémon would be standing there.

Waiting.  

He had currently been having that dream. The one about the Pokémon with the big orange eyes.

That is, until the doorbell downstairs began clamoring away. It jolted him awake from his snooze like he was a Snorlax and some jackass was blowing on a Pokéflute.

He stretched his arms gingerly before turning over in his warm bed. Although he found his left side was more comfortable to fall asleep on, he customarily woke up on his right. Weird. His droopy eyes briefly scanned the numbers on his clock. The big bold letters read **4:47am**  

The doorbell rang again, and immediately afterward, thunder rumbled, the latter dull, emanating somewhere far away. Being comatose, he hadn’t even realized a storm was brewing. He was a heavy sleeper, although apparently that same immunity did not apply to doorbells.        

Having no intention of answering the door, he focused on the pleasant sounds outside, sheets of rain lapping furiously against the roof and windows. It was music to his ears. The white noise would have been perfect if not for the doorbell’s discordant cries, like a Zubat using Screech over and over and over again. Eventually, the ringing dropped in frequency, so much so that for a drawn-out moment he thought that it had all been his imagination. He began to drift–

–The fucking Zubat again! At least he thought it sounded like a Zubat. He had never actually seen a Zubat before, or heard one for that matter. According to something he had once read, though, it was hella annoying. The doorbell was hella annoying. Hence, the equivalence.

His eyes found the clock again. The chubby illuminated numbers said **5:01am**

That fact didn’t jumpstart Lucian into action, but it did convince him that whoever was at the door wasn’t going away.  He reached haphazardly in the dark, towards the clock, which sat firmly on a small table next to his bed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t super-glued to the table. When the device crashed onto the floor, it secreted a loud **bang** that rattled his senses more than the Zubat shrieking downstairs.

“Fuck my ass!” he said.

The doorbell chimed again.

“And fuck you too, Zubat.”

More carefully this time, he reached for the lamp. His eyes were already adjusting.  He could pick it out in the darkness, the curvy, structured silhouette. Judicious fingers confirmed what his eyes suspected. They prodded at its cool metal base before making their ascension. When an amber paint splattered the room, hitting even the farthest corners, Lucian shut his eyes to remedy the ephemeral pain.

Sighing heavily, he propelled himself up and convinced his body to make further haste. The sooner he answered the door, the sooner his mind could sojourn back into the abyss. Grabbing his Holo Caster and putting it in one of his pajama pockets, Lucian power-walked out of his room. Despite the impatience of the stranger down below, who had begun banging on the door with what sounded like an iron fist, Lucian made a brief stop to the nearby bathroom to make sure he looked presentable. He wasn’t accustomed to interacting with strangers; communicating with them, maintaining eye-contact, watching people watching him back. Weird. Despite this irregularity, he cared very deeply about their rare appraisals as they examined him with disparaging eyes.

When he saw his reflection, he froze in disgust. With the exception of violet-colored eyes and shoulder-length purple hair, everything else – his pointed nose, sculpted jaw, even the big dopy ears concealed by his long hair – reminded him of how his father looked at his age. Oh how Lucian wished his old man would be the troglodyte with the gall to disturb the household at such an unsavory hour. He hadn’t seen that asshole in a long time. It had been years. So many that he doubted either would be able to recognize the other. Nonetheless, if it was his father, Lucian would delight in giving him a piece of his mind.

He knew it wasn’t his mother. It couldn’t be. She was a nocturnal creature, working throughout the night and sleeping a few hours during the day, usually the early afternoon after returning from those long, mentally harrowing bouts of work. Lucian used to tease her that he got enough sleep for the both of them. That joke was discontinued when it began to elicit more gloom than glee.

Basically, there was no way she was here this early. Besides, if it was her she would have let herself in instead of barbarically bludgeoning on the door like a Hitmon-fucking-chan.

There was just no way she forgot to bring her keys. His mother never forgot anything.

As Lucian marched swiftly down the stairs, he wondered who was behind the door. And why?

 **Bang**. **Bang**. **Bang**.

“Coming!” Lucian  squawked irritably. He hesitated for a moment, his hand caressing the knob, his thoughts racing as acumen filtered into his still stirring senses. Mother always told him to be wary of strangers. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to just swing the door open under the absent light of the moon, not without checking first to see who it was. For if it was someone with malevolent intentions, Lucian didn’t have a single Pokémon to defend him. _Maybe it is my father_ , his mind scoffed before he called, “Who is it?” at the top of his lungs. “And what do you want?”

“This is the police. Open up!” It wasn’t his mother’s voice, but it undeniably belonged to a female, and she definitely wasn’t asking.  

 _I wish I was an Abra,_ he thought as he unlocked the latch. That was his mantra. _If I was an Abra, I could just teleport away from here and go back to sleep._

When the door grated open, a flash of light simmered for a moment in the dark, twinkling like blue stars despite the leaden congregation of clouds and the prevailing dark. He must have imagined them.  

Two people stood there at the door. A man and a woman. Much of them blended in with the dark, but there was no mistaking the constable uniform the woman donned as well as the navy blue hat positioned atop her head. As for the guy, he was dressed in a monochromatic black suit with a pink tie strewn down the middle. Both of them were wearing sunglasses, despite there being no fucking sun in the night sky. That was weird, even for him.

_Recap: A Police Officer and some guy in a suit. Cool._

“Nice sunglasses,” Lucian said, surprised by the derisiveness in his own voice. He couldn’t help it, it just kind of burst out like a belch. He waited for them to respond, but they remained as silent as two Whismur. Though he couldn’t see the woman’s eyes, he could feel her penetrating gaze. “Uh…so, what can I do for you, Officer?”

At last, one of the spoke. “This is Sabrina’s residence, correct?” The female’s voice was soft, calm, naturally mellifluous. Lucian was taken aback, but only for a moment. He was too tired to be dazzled by femininity.

“Yes it is."

"Who are you?" she said. 

"I'm her son," Lucian replied, squinting warily. Her hair was long, jagged, and bluish, greenish, or turquoise or whatever, as was customary of all Officer Jenny’s.    

“Oh! Well, is your mother home?"     

“The Mistress of Psychic Pokémon…at this hour?” Lucian let loose a few exasperated chuckles. “Of course not. Are you new around here?”

The man and woman exchanged glances. “Are you sure she’s not here?” the latter asked.

“As sure as I can be, Officer. It’s five o’clock in the morning, you know. I just woke up. I mean, I guess I can give her a message if you’d like, but if you need her now, right now – for whatever reason – you’ll undoubtedly find her at the Saffron City Gym.” After Lucian spilled out everything he could, he nearly shuddered in revulsion. It hit him like a proverbial ton of Boldores. Where was his decorum? Visitors, and an Officer Jenny at that, standing in the rain and he had the gall to be callous and affronting? He wasn’t a socially inept moron. Not completely. He sort of knew how to mingle with other people. Or at least he had watched enough Netflix to know how to try and half-ass it. _I should invite them in, right? RIGHT?_

“Where are my manners!” he cried. “Forgive me. Please, come in Officer Jenny and uh….dude.” 

The woman glanced at her partner again and they both grinned. When she turned back to Lucian, her rosy-pink lips were still spread. Through the prevailing dark his eyes could discern her teeth; pearly whites, at least the top half. “Why thank you,” she said. Lucian hoped they hadn’t been offended.    

“It’s pouring outside,” he chided awkwardly as he sidestepped away to grant them entry. “Where is your umbrella?”

“We don’t need one,” she passed by him with a sharp grace. “Where we go, the sun follows.” After she whisked past, he checked out her backside. He didn’t get to see very many backsides, particularly of the female persuasion, so there was no way he was going to squander the opportunity. She was of a delicate stature and build, with narrow shoulders, a thin waist, and long legs, the latter on full display below that navy blue police miniskirt. The skin of her unsheathed arms and bared legs had a polished bronze hue that seemed to shimmer like glitter. Oddly enough, she didn’t look even remotely wet despite the storm. Neither did the guy, who Lucian immediately pinned as a male model of some sort. There was no denying his dashingly good looks, or the fact that he was built like a motherfucking Machoke. Even through the suit, his muscles were bulging. His head was completely shaved and he had tanned skin, though not nearly as dark as the woman’s. Hers still seemed to shimmer in the dim light. Lucian’s eyes had to be playing tricks on him. They also informed him that this woman was the most sublime beauty he had ever seen. To be fair he didn’t get out much, as in, never. But he did have access to the internet. They looked rather young, about his age actually. It was like the two of them were the Prom Queen and King at some nearby high school or something.       

The door groaned pitifully when his firm hands began to close it. Right before it clicked shut, a yellowish blur zipped through. It didn’t graze him, for if it did he swore it would have singed his balls off.  Nevertheless, whatever it was it radiated an intense heat, like an ember shooting between his legs.

“What the hell…?”

He whirled around and found two big, fiery rubies appraising him. They belonged to a deceptively small creature, with a long, slender snout, lean legs, tiny paws, and an ethereal body covered with a golden-white coat. Sprouting behind its small frame was a mass of unwieldy tendrils. They seemed to defy its very nature. There were nine in total. Nine swirly tails.           

It was a Ninetails, there was no mistaking that fact. He wished he had a Pokédex to confirm it, just so his incredulous eyes could remedy their nonbelieving. What were the odds? East of Saffron city, Vulpix could be encountered on Route 8, but it was purportedly a rare occurrence. But its evolution, a Ninetails, here? He wondered if his mother would believe him. Whatever the case, it must have run inside to flee the storm.       

It approached him, those ruby eyes burning with curiosity. Lucian threw his hands up in respectful apprehension, ensuring that they wouldn’t clip one of those long unwieldy tails if it decided to come closer.

It did.

“You must be lost,” he said with what little composure he had left, pressing his back against the door. He tried even harder to look away, to not make eye contact, focusing on its tiny paws and then those giant cumbersome tails. “Are you a stray?” He hadn’t much experience with Pokémon. Almost zero unwarranted interactions, actually. He had been too afraid to meet his mother’s Pokémon. But even he knew turning your back on one was a blatant sign of disrespect. But if he met its gaze… _Just don’t maintain eye-contact_ , he told himself. _Don’t do it. Don’t you dare_! He knew he had failed when his body abruptly became rigid. He couldn’t look away. The Ninetails drew closer still, tiny three-pronged paws slowly trotting forward. Despite his best efforts, he peered deep into those eyes. Gleaming rubies glared back. They kept coming, those eyes like comets caught in his gravitational field, getting closer, growing larger. For Lucian, a Pokémon’s eyes were like doors waiting to be opened.

 _No, stay back,_ his mind begged. It was too late.  

Within those crimson eyes, he saw flames. And within the flames, within the bright light lay what he feared most of all.

Lucian could feel the Pokémon’s heart beating, boiling, burning.

And he was about to find out why.  

“–lost!” The Officer Jenny’s voice was like the crack of a whip. As soon as that single word sliced the air, Lucian was back, surrounded by the domiciliary and the familiar.

The strange creature, the golden Ninetails was over there, circling around the woman’s slim bronze legs.

“You’re not lost, are you, my friend?” the Officer Jenny continued as the Ninetails rubbed its protruded snout affectionately against her knee. “And you’re certainly not a stray. Not anymore. No, you’re not!” Only when the Officer Jenny began lightly stroking its swirly tails, a jaw-dropping sight for anyone especially Lucian, did he realize it was her companion. “His name is Alabaster. He’s a bit bashful, but there’s more to him than that. Once you get to know him he’s one of the warmest Pokémon you’ll ever meet.”

Lucian swiftly swiped the coat of slimy sweat from his brow. “Are you only saying that because he’s a fire type?” His words kind of burst out, so he threw on a tiny smirk afterwards just in case.

The Officer Jenny exchanged a slight grin of her own. “That was not intentional actually. Nice catch.”

Lucian’s smile widened. He couldn’t help it. He was relieved and stunned; relieved to have escaped the Pokémon eyes, and stunned to be in the presence of someone so, well, stunning.  She was a lovely lady to look at. A diminutive one too, several inches above five-feet but that was with heels. As a matter of fact, the girl really didn’t look a day older than Lucian who had yet to ascend into his twenties. _An Officer Jenny, huh_ , he thought. _Hmmmm_. His smile faded as his eyes gleaned over her suit-clad deputy. Apparently he was the strong, silent type. A large black bag hung at his hip, the strap thrust around one of his broad shoulders, and he wore a serene expression on his man-pretty face – that face – he looked familiar somehow. Lucian knew he had seen him before, somewhere. He just couldn’t put a cerebral finger on it.     

Crossing his arms, Lucian said, “I take it your being here, at this hour, means something serious, Officer?”

She nodded solemnly. “That’s exactly why we’re here, sweetie.”

 _Sweetie_ …At that, Lucian blushed, possibly harder than he had ever before in his entire life. Unintentionally, he laughed a few times too. It felt weird. “Alright. Follow me. And please, allow Alabaster to come with us on all fours. I insist. I can tell he doesn’t like Pokéballs.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, evidently surprised by his comment. “We appreciate that.”    

As the Jenny and her Ninetails and the male model tailed closely behind, Lucian wondered what the female was thinking. He couldn’t explore her mental faculties as he hypothetically could Pokémon. According to his mother, most telepathic people could not readily read the minds of other human beings. “Our gifts,” she explained, “are designed for Pokémon.” On numerous occasions she had tried to teach him, to help him, but he was always too afraid. Theoretically, it was possible he could read the Ninetails’ mind. Moments ago, perhaps that was what almost happened. He didn’t want to concentrate on that.   

Some of Lucian’s thoughts centered on the girl and her athletic yet languid male compatriot. He wondered what had happened, why they were knocking on his door and rousing him at such an early hour of the day. The woman was appealing to his eyes, there was no denying that. But a Police Officer? His intuition told him otherwise. He was always skeptical about everything. His main activity when conscious was reading copiously, from which he had learned never to take anything at face value. Plus, when he was little, his mother would often tell him to only trust her and himself. Later, she explained that, “Life is full of Tauros-shit. Most people, too.”

This Officer Jenny had the uniform, the turquoise hair, and yet, something told him it was a façade.

He knew it was foolish, but despite his misgivings, central to his thoughts was the fear that they were judging him. He was a pariah. Always had been. The weirdo in a city as big as Saffron, no easy task, and no trophy for concrete proof, but he knew he held the title nonetheless. It wasn’t just because of his purple hair, either.  

“That’s Sabrina’s love child,” he overheard someone say once when he was ten-years-old. Mother had heard it too. He remembered her cerise eyes, how glossy they became. They were at the Magnet Train station, so travelers were everywhere. Not all of them were local either. People from places all over Kanto and even Johto were there, and most of them recognized his mother. After all, she was a celebrity. Then they saw him, his hand being held by Sabrina’s and yet, no ring on her finger. Then they put two and two together and decided to gossip about it.

As a matter of fact, that was the same day they took the Magnet Train to the Johto region. His mother hoped to find him a starter Pokémon. Specifically, a Psychic type. “We’re going to find you one, Lucy,” she promised, giving him a reassuringly tight hug. “The right one,” she whispered in his ear. “A Pokémon that will be compatible with you. Will understand you. Will love you.”    

Lucian tried to rid himself of such unproductive thoughts. “There’s a time and place for everything…” his mother’s voice echoed, “…except for negativity. Let the good eclipse the bad.”  

Back to the trio behind him. He still wondered what they were thinking as they followed. Maybe they were admiring their surroundings. It was a strange dwelling, but it was the place he called home, the same place he spent all of his lethargic time trapped within, ironically by his own accord. It was a prison in some ways, a sanctuary in others. Weighing his options, he preferred being in here over being out there, a judgment he had explained to his mother a thousand times over. She had never said so, but he knew she was glad. His mother always worried about him. As time passed, he felt more and more okay with his decision. Not glad, but contented. For Lucian wasn’t like the other kids growing up. Boys and girls who spent their youth daydreaming of adventures and preliminary teenage years fulfilling them; running amuck with their Pokémon, catching new ones, training them, battling their diverse yet ubiquitous kin; traveling throughout the region and abroad with Pokémon. Playing with their Pokémon. Feeding their Pokémon. Growing with their Pokémon. What was normal to everyone else seemed to him so very foreign. Seldom had he ever left the drab seclusion he called home. And rarely did he ever meet strangers. Strangers like these.

The three of them plus the Ninetails stopped in the middle of a spacious room. It was brightly lit, thanks to the shimmering chandelier overhead and sparsely occupied save for a few trinkets, ornaments, and sentimental family possessions. His mother maintained an aura of austerity throughout the household, and never once did Lucian object. This room, as were all the rest, remained devoid of any decor that represented frivolity. Elegant statues sat proudly along the walls. They were figurines of Pokémon, life-size and painted gold. Most prominent was his mother’s Alakazam, silently standing guard on the left side of the room. Lunging innocuously on the other side was his father’s mighty Charizard. Lucian always felt as if they were watching him, evaluating him and laughing silently in their clandestine existence. A large piano sat in the far left corner, immaculate and tuned thanks entirely to Lucian who composed music every now and then. A lavish display of plants shared that otherwise austere space as well, freshening the air and minding no one’s business but their own. None of them were Pokémon, but they were alive all the same. The young man maintained them on an individual level; some needed to be watered every other day, others once a week or even just once a month. He liked to think of them as his friends for they were as close as he would ever come.    

“May I take a seat?” the Officer Jenny asked.

The second Lucian’s head tilted forward in assent, the woman melted. Lucian could see her now, in the full light, and clear understanding began to dawn. Leaning back on the sofa, she stifled a yawn with a fist before folding her arms and crossing her legs, her body assuming a relaxed position.

Lucian had selected this spot mainly due to the surplus of chairs. It was probably one of the more welcoming of rooms, less exotic and more people-friendly, whatever the hell that meant. Never before had he entertained guests. Not without mother being present. For some strange reason, the guy elected to remain standing, situating his impressive girth behind his female compatriot’s chair. He still had yet to say a word or even open his mouth. The expression over his man-pretty face was bland, like he was in a stupor. Or on drugs. Something. As for the Ninetails, Alabaster as he was called, he lay down in front of his master’s feet, his ears pointed, ever alert. Those crimson eyes of his burned. Lucian avoided them, instead directing his gaze to the rims of opaque sunglasses.

“What’s with that look on your face?” the woman asked. Lucian couldn’t help it, he was quite sure of his theory. An odd smile was still painted on his face when he said, “Well, it’s obvious you’re not an Officer Jenny. Perhaps you’re looking for my mother to battle? I told you, she isn’t here…which would be convenient if you were really here to, say,” he pointed an accusatory finger at them, “kidnap me and hold me for ransom…!”

Silence filled the room, that is, until the woman burst into girlish laughter. Apparently this comment was most amusing, because even the stalwart man behind her broke, his broad shoulders quivering in restrained mirth as a quivering hand smothered his mouth.  

“You certainly have a wild imagination, kid. Tell me. How did you see through my disguise? What gave me away?”

Trying to downplay his growing panic, Lucian shrugged and said steadily, “You’re too pretty to be an Officer Jenny. Too young, as well. We’re probably around the same age, kid.”

The woman’s pink lips upturned, but only slightly. She had regained much of her composure, as did the man behind her. In fact, his poise had been restored fully. The two of them remained silent. It was as if they had nothing say. Or perhaps they were ruminating about how best to proceed now that their cover had been blown. Despite not being able to see her eyes, he could feel the woman’s gaze. 

“I’m Lucian,” he said tensely. “I already know Alabaster. As for the two of you–” he swallowed audibly, “whoever you are…it’s a pleasure…”  

Another long silence ensued. Sitting there, waiting, Lucian entertained the idea that they were burglars. _And I unlocked the door for them_ , he thought. _Good job, yah fucking idiot._

When the woman finally spoke, she did so quietly. “Albina. My name, Lucian, is Albina. And this gentleman behind me–” her hand took to the air before being gently swallowed by the man’s large fist, “…is Einstein.”

 _Einstein_? Lucian had read about him quite extensively. The real Einstein. Professor Einstein was regarded as the very first Pokémon scientist, an avant-garde in the field, in the research, understanding and documentation of Pokémon. He had been dead for over a century. Why would this man-pretty brute be named after him?

Albina must have sensed his incredulity. “As I’m sure you noticed, Lucian,” she said, her rosy lips downturned ever so slightly, “Einstein is mute. However, he is incredibly intelligent.” When their hands unclasped, Lucian noticed their outstretched fingers graze apart slowly, maintaining furtive contact for another second before hers floated away, returning reluctantly to her lap.   

“Now,” the woman continued, “You are no doubt wondering why we are here.”

Lucian nodded slowly.

“We were hoping to meet with your mother, Sabrina. Unfortunately, she wasn’t at the Gym. Thus, our search led us here, where we found you. Only you. I didn’t know Sabrina had a son.”

She paused to allow him to digest what she had said. Firstly, unintentionally or not she admitted to being unaware of his existence. Most everyone in Saffron City knew that. So, that meant she wasn’t from around here. Second…Lucian  frowned. “About the Gym. You said my mother wasn’t there?”

“That is correct. Now, as I understand it, being a Gym Leader is a full time job. If she isn’t there, and she isn’t here, where could she be?”

Lucian pursed his lips, contemplating. Why should he tell these strangers anything? Then again, this news proved concerning. His mother’s schedule was routine. When she deviated, which was rare, she always informed him. It was part of how she worried about him. She didn’t want him worrying about her.

“Well?” the woman said, interrupting his thoughts. “Did she leave on vacation and neglect to inform you?” 

“No!” He exclaimed immediately. “But to be honest, I don’t really know where she might be. I could call her. I guess I should…”

“Good idea.”

Lucian only had one contact on his Holo Caster; his mother. At the press of a button, the little device began beckoning for Sabrina’s audience.

 **Ding**.

She usually answered on the second ring.

 **Ding**.

Sometimes, his mother picked up on the third. Even if she was in the middle of a battle, she always answered. His mother always worried about him. 

 **Ding**.

 _What the hell_?

 **Ding**.

 **Ding**.

“Mom,” he heard himself whisper.

 **Ding**.

“How unfortunate,” a female voice mused.

Lucian’s eyes shot up. “What do mean?”

Albina rose from her chair, rounded the table in between them and hovered there above, her bronze face an enigma behind the dark tint of those oversized sunglasses. Kneeling down on a single knee she said, “There’s no easy way to say this, sweetie, but I think something dreadful has happened.”

Lucian’s nose crinkled as his eyes narrowed. “Dreadful…?”

Albina placed a hand on his shoulder. Her nails were long and white, almost anemic-looking. “Yes,” she said. “Dreadful. I fear the worst.”  

A chill shot up Lucian’s spine.

“Over the course of the last several weeks,” she said, “prestigious Pokémon trainers across several regions have been disappearing without a trace.”

As she explained further, his mind stopped functioning properly. Sluggishly digesting her words as if they were made of butter, filtering through his ears and clogging up once inside his skull. 

“Bug Catchers, Backpackers, Hikers, Ace Trainers, _Psychics_ , Blackbelts and Battle Girls, Actors and Actresses, Barons and Baronesses, Dukes and Duchesses, the list goes on and on. That’s not even the worst of it. Just south of here, in Vermilion City, the Gym Leader Lieutenant Surge has been missing since yesterday. Janine over in Fuchsia is a ghost, and her father, Koga, of the Indigo Elite Four appears reluctant to explain why. She vanished a few weeks ago. Where they went no one knows. And get this – old man Blaine who lives down on Cinnabar Island–”

From behind her, Lucian thought he heard the Ninetails, Alabaster, snarl. It was barely audible. He paid it no heed, too absorbed in the woman’s words.

“…is a renowned scientist. He helped rebuild the town there after it was destroyed by the volcano. He retired as the local Gym Leader several years ago, but he had been running a popular hotel for a lengthy period of time. Created a little paradise down there, some used to say.”  

“Did he vanish too?” Lucian said, his heart thumping.

She nodded. “Mhm. No one’s seen him for over a month. The same day Blaine went missing, his hotel on the island was burned down to the ground. The Police believe he died in the fire, but I'm not so sure. Whatever the case, it’s not as if he was incapable of defending himself. Something bizarre is happening to trainers and Gym Leaders alike. And whatever it is, Lucian, it isn’t good. Einstein and I traveled here to Saffron City to warn your mother. Unfortunately, it looks like we arrived too late.”

Suddenly the air felt frigid. The torrent of rain raged furiously outside. He could hear it slashing at everything, the roof and windows, millions of water-droplets all suffering the same fate, banished from the heavens and plunging into hell. Tears swelled in his eyes and he used every ounce of strength to hold them back.

Lucian then shook his head violently. “This is impossible!” he uttered. “My mother is Sabrina, the Saffron City Gym Leader…she can’t…couldn’t have just…I must be dreaming…” He pinched his arm as hard as he could, wincing sheepishly as the nail of his thumb and forefinger dug into the skin. Only at the sight of blood did he stop. 

“Life is a nightmare,” the woman remarked dispassionately. “There’s no escaping it.”    

“Okay, still…something has to explain their absence? **What** the **fuck** could have happened?”

“I’ve spoken with the cops on numerous occasions. They’re not as smart as you are.” A smug expression developed on her face. “They tell me everything. Which isn’t much. They’re completely in the dark, as usual. Dozens of distinguished humans are disappearing. That’s all they know.” 

“What about my mother?”

“What about her? I’m not Psychic. You know, you would think she might have been able to foresee such a calamity.”

“Extrasensory Perception isn’t automatic,” he said, springing from his chair. He was enraged. Angry at Albina, mostly. A part of him didn’t believe her. She lied about her identity, about being a Police Officer. She sure as hell could be conning him on this too! Sure, maybe he was furious simply because she was the messenger. It didn’t matter. When he arose, she did as well. He towered over her, an entire head-and-a-half taller despite her heels. “So, Albina,” he spat, his voice laced with skepticism, “who the hell are you? And why should I believe a word you say?”

She seemed unfazed by his tenacity. “Einstein and I are interregional investigators. We make it our business to know the facts on these matters.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he groaned, clenching his fists so hard they hurt. “Let’s pretend you’re telling the truth this time. Who the fuck did this? Tell me, now, and stop with the Tauros-shit!”

“I would if you would stop shouting, you silly Zangoose.”

Lucian’s mouth opened, but he elected to keep his tongue in check. Albina tapped one of her heels, seemingly unwilling to go on until she believed his temper to be tempered.

“It was Team Rocket,” she stated at last. “Team Rocket and I suspect Team Plasma as well. The two have been consolidating their efforts for years.”  

Lucian shook his head again in angry disbelief. “Is that it?” he beamed with such physicality that the woman took a meager step back. “That’s impossible. The Rockets were defeated years ago, before you and I were even born. They’ve long since disbanded. You claim to know facts. Those are facts, you bitch!”

Complete silence reigned for a solid minute. Her head had cocked to the right, and though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew where they had flown, perching brazenly on the large painting hanging on the wall. Large painting did it no justice. It was colossal, vertically comprising the wall in its entirety and as long across as a Seviper stretched at full length. The painting depicted his adolescent father and his Pokémon team, all standing at the behest of their master – a youth wearing a crimson cap.

“You have the same face...” he heard her whisper. “Is _he_ your father?”

At that, Lucian sort of lost his mind. He couldn’t be blamed for it, not with this late-night Tauros-shit concerning the disappearance of his mother.

“I am nothing like my father!” he shrieked before striding over to the side of the room, his footsteps as heavy as a Tyranitar’s. He stopped in front of the array of family statues. Glaring at them one by one, the drum in his chest pounding, he felt his eyes fill with tears once more. One second, the Blastoise was standing right-side up as normal. And the next, it was lying on its shell. He had tipped it over. Pushed it with his will, with his mind.

“You d-don’t know me,” he howled, his thoughts racing, his grief, his hate, his envy – all of it pushed to the edge, sweltering before bursting, pouring out. “You don’t know what I’ve had to go through…did you know that I have never, ever owned a Pokémon!? I’ve barely entertained the idea. The only thing I had was my m-mother. And now you’re telling me she’s gone. Stop lying to me. Just stop, please. She can’t be…she just can’t. I’ve got nothing, no one else.

With both hands, he began tugging viciously at his long, purple hair. “My f-father. I barely remember him. I think…I think I was an accident. When I was born…my father…he didn’t even want me. He left us…my mom and me. Just left. Too b-busy training his Pokémon.”

The Charizard statue began to tremble slightly. Then violently. Slowly, it elevated off the floor. Rising several inches, a foot, then a few feet. It was a heavy thing. Too much for his psyche to handle. He released his grip, savoring the moment it smashed onto the wooden floor with a **bang**.

“Lucian, do you have any idea who your father is?”

He heard her, but those faint words didn’t resonate. He was too busy smashing things. Venusaur. Lapras. That fat fuck, Snorlax. Then, something else ensnared his attention. The painting on the wall; the portrait of his father. He gave it a lengthy side-long glance before turning shamelessly to face it, to stare down his father and the Pikachu perched on his shoulder, its tiny yellow body, red cheeks, and zigzagging tail like a small bolt of lightning. It was obvious that it adored him, even in the painted depiction. Even more evident was that his father reciprocated those feelings. He treasured that little thing. Loved it so very much. More than anything. More than the woman he knocked up. And more, much more than his own son.

Tears streamed down Lucian’s face. His seeping eyes departed from the painting, settling instead on the life-like Pikachu statue. That tiny golden mouse. It fluttered towards him, hovering a foot away from his face. Extending his arms, he reached for it and whispered a string of words he had read in a book once. “Pikachu, I choose you.”

“What an extraordinary display of power,” someone breathed behind him. “I’m impressed.”   

A resounding crash resonated throughout the room when the Pikachu fell at his feet. Lucian’s mind contorted as his body twisted around. His eyes, hot with tears, met her scrutiny. When he rushed towards her, he wasn’t going to hurt her in any way. Or even lay a single finger on her. He swore. He was just going to give her a vehement piece of his mind. But Albina’s escorts thought otherwise.

The reprisal first struck his ears, a low seething growl from Alabaster. It stopped him dead in his tracks.

But he forgot all about that terrifying sound when he felt his entire being launched into the air, his feet leaving the ground, dangling helplessly. A titanic fist had clasped him around the neck, hoisting him up and up and holding him there as if he was as light as a Hoppip floating in the breeze. He tore at them, trying to rip apart the thick rigid fingers around his neck with both his hands, but they wouldn’t budge. Down below, the baldheaded man looked at him with those tinted bug eyes. His man-pretty face no longer tranquil, he looked absolutely livid, his face pink from inflammation.

“Release him, Einstein. Now!”

Lucian felt himself fall before slamming into the deck ass-first. Despite his butt-cushions, the landing hurt. He coughed as he drew concurrent breaths, gasping for every ounce of precious air. Alabaster had been down there waiting for him, his voracious jaws inches from Lucian’s face. The only thing more daunting than the two rows of sharp fangs were those two gleaming, bleeding eyes. Hate radiated from the Ninetails’ being even more than the torrid heat from his body.

“No need to make him piss his pants, Ally, really.”

After one final snarl, the Ninetails quietly ambled away. As for Lucian, he lay there in silence. More so from shame than shock or fright. He couldn’t believe what he had said, revealing to them a few of his deepest, darkest secrets, burdening them with the plight that gnawed on his heart. That was the worst part. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about his despair. He just didn’t want anyone else to worry about him. He knew what it did to his mother.       

“Come here, Ally. Come. Good boy! You too, Lucian. Let’s pick that kee-razy butt of yours up.” A firm hand gripped him by the wrists. Another followed, and then both began to tug. Those pencil-thin limbs were deceptive. She was a strong girl. He barely did anything before finding himself back on two feet.

“I apologize, for acting that way,” he said, wiping at his slushy nose. “I don’t know what came over me.”  

The woman shrugged her narrow blue clothed shoulders. “That was years in the making. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“What?”

“To unleash your pain.”

“Uh…yeah,” he said, still panting, reflecting. “You know the feeling?”

 “Oh yes. Pain and I are very well-acquainted.” She giggled happily. “I have daddy-issues too. I used to hate my parents. Both of them. Equally.” She grinned. “You know, I think the four of us have a lot in common.”

“Four?”

“Well, there’s you–” the quasi-Officer Jenny jabbed a sharp white fingernail into his chest, right over his heart. It stung a little, but it also felt good. “…And Alabaster–”  

When her hand glided over the creature’s tails, the Pokémon yapped merrily.

“…My beloved little Einstein–” her bronzed hands extended upwards, landing on his broad shoulders, raking over them, exploring their length and curvatures. An odd leer developed on the guy’s face as she caressed him like a pet.

“…And then, me of course.” When Albina removed her sunglasses, Lucian’s eyes locked onto hers.

They were bizarre, the irises a breathtakingly vivid scarlet.

“Your eyes–” he gasped. “They’re red.”       

“You’re one to talk,” she quipped. “Yours are violet.”  


	3. Rise and Shine

With her bronzed legs crossed, the quasi-Officer Jenny Albina remained seated in the chaise lounge. Within one hand, she held a mug up to her pink lips, sipping the coffee Lucian had offered. Or insisted on, really. The quiet guy in the suit, Einstein, had declined any sort of beverage with a wave of a meaty hand. With him, Lucian elected not to persist. He stood directly behind the quasi-Officer Jenny, behind the cozy chaise lounge as well despite there being ample space to plant his bottom. 

With chalky white nails, Albina’s other hand had dipped down to scratch the area around one of the Ninetails’ pointy ears. The fox Pokémon seemed to be at least content with the massage, his furry muzzled-face a passive one as he lied beside his master’s feet.

The purple-haired young man hadn’t forgotten about that golden-white Pokémon. On a hunch, he removed a treat from the refrigerator, a little something his mother Sabrina gave to reward her Pokémon companions.

“Hey, Albina,” Lucian said quietly, garnering everyone’s attention. “Here’s a little something for, um your…” His voice trailed off. He felt so damned awkward doing that gesture.  

When he extended a Deluxe Poké Puff, the little fox tilted his furry head in surprise. Still rubbing around one of his ears, Albina said, “It’s for you, Ally. Go on, don’t be shy.”

The Pokémon approached, his head held low. Sniffing the food in Lucian’s unclenched hand, the Ninetails glanced up, then back down, and then up again.

Lucian instinctively crammed his eyes shut. Whenever his vision glazed over the rubies the Ninetails had for eyes, the contents inside his skull ached. Seeing nothing but darkness, Lucian felt a soft, bulbous nose graze his palm and then a warm tongue as the sweet delicacy was accepted.

When Lucian opened his eyes again, the Ninetails had migrated back to his master. Lucian could see a knot in the Pokémon’s thin protruded mouth as he chewed, which then traveled down his neck after he swallowed. There were a few crumbs on the floor below, which the fox Pokémon promptly snatched up with a pink tongue. Lucian knew he was being polite. There wasn’t a single speck of food Lucian had to clean up. After he was finished eating, Alabaster the Ninetails arose and bestowed upon the young man an elegant bow.

In response, Lucian had to glance away. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t afford to meet those crimson cinders.

“Hey!” That was the woman disguised as an Officer Jenny. Licking her lips, she placed the coffee mug on the glass table in front of her. Lucian’s vision settled on hers. Her eyes were a vivid scarlet.

“Thank you, Lucian, for your hospitality,” she said. “Now, I want you to go and grab your things. A _few_ things. It’s in our best interest to leave. We should do it soon.”

“Can do,” Lucian replied, nodding. For once in his life, he really did want to escape. Before, it was unthinkable. Without Pokémon, it was impossible to venture outside Saffron City. Even inside the city limits, though, danger lurked around every corner. Though infrequent, there were muggings and street fights like in any other urban environment, but physical perils were not the primary cause of Lucian’s anchored existence. 

For an adult to tread the city streets without an occupied Pokéball tacked to their hip was a disgrace, something akin to strolling around in one’s underwear. Such an egregious sin was more than embarrassing; it was socially unacceptable.   

These two interregional investigators, Albina and Einstein, no doubt did have Pokémon. Perhaps he could blend in with them. After all, the woman said they were here to help.        

“What’s our destination?” Lucian asked as he rubbed his eyes. He was still sleepy, though any thoughts of climbing back into bed had been vanquished by the alarming news of his mother’s disappearance. “I mean where do we go? The Police Station first, I guess, and after that who knows…right?”   

With steepled fingers, Albina answered, “Let Einstein and me worry about that. Now, hurry up! Chop-chop. Take those pink pajamas off too, you look ridiculous.”

Lucian glanced down. Gripping and tugging on his pink shirt rather sheepishly, he said, “I’ll have you know these are extremely comfortable.” When Albina exuded a few giggles, Lucian’s heart fluttered. Sadly, it was his most memorable achievement in years.     

As he strode up the spiraling staircase, two at a time, Lucian heard Albina talking in a hushed tone. Thus, he slowed his pace to near-Shuckle speeds to listen.  “Find me another outfit to wear,” she said. “I’ll put on whatever you want, darling.”

As he reached the top, Lucian couldn’t help but wonder if those two were sleeping together. Albina was such a petite thing, and Einstein was like a brick building with arms and legs. It was a weird image. Worst of all, he could not deny a smidgen of jealousy. Lucian had crushed on plenty of girls, sure. Of course, the entire lot of them had been media icons and pop divas he had found browsing the web. All completely meaningless. This was different. This was real.   

He entered his room. It was an environment he had long regarded too big for someone with his modesty. There was a lot of empty space. He had his bed, the PC on his desk, a violin which had been collecting dust as of late, a television accumulating even more dust, and a large book shelf, each platform filled to the brim with dozens of volumes, most of them nonfiction and philosophical. All pertained to Pokémon. Though Lucian didn’t own one, and never would, he was a walking, talking Pokémon encyclopedia.

He b-lined his PC and checked the inbox, just in case his mother had sent him something. Anything.

“0 New Messages”

He tried reaching her again on his Holo Caster. Again, she didn’t pick up the call. Something was amiss, no doubt about that. He tried his hardest not to let his imagination run amok.  

Before changing his clothes, he decided to flip on the news. First, he needed to find the remote. It was a far more arduous task than he could have imagined.   

He checked under the bed, on the table next to it, the cabinet drawers, around his bookcase, all to no avail. “You can’t run, but you certainly can hide, can’t you?” It took a ballet dance around the room, complete with multiple pirouettes to locate that little black rectangle. “Ah! There you are, you fuck.” It was sitting on his desk, behind a stack of books. The device was so dusty he had to huff and puff on it a few times like a Dragon Pokémon.

As he changed his clothes, he listened to the female newscaster drone on about the Pokémon League. At least she had a pleasant-sounding voice.          

“Greetings, comrades. This is Ariana with your Daybreak Pokémon News!” Whether it was feigned or genuine, Ariana was an anchor who always seemed enthusiastic about her vocal delivery. She was an attractive redhead with a prominent widow’s peak. As were her painted red lips, her hands too were very busy, stroking the Pokémon lying in her lap. It was a Persian. One hand caressed the tan fur on its round head, around the two black-rimmed ears. The other lightly strummed the creature’s whiskers like a musician might a harp. As Ariana discussed current events, her feline partner purred in soft ecstasy. The sound wasn’t a distraction at all. In fact, it was quite harmonious.    

“Dragon Master Iris lost her crown at the Unova League Championship last night,” the anchor continued. “Beast, the popular new Pokémon Trainer sensation, decisively claimed his second title, dismantling the Unova Elite Four members before going on to defeat Iris in what was a shockingly one-sided affair. The achievement is historic. We have only seen one other trainer hold concurrent Championship titles. Some said Cynthia’s Championship Triad could never be repeated. Is this the rise of a new dynasty?

“A growing number of fans seem to think so. Experts speculate that Beast’s next target will be the Indigo Elite Four. When asked if he had plans to travel to Kanto, Beast said, well, absolutely nothing. Beast is as famous for his extraordinary battling achievements as he is for his taciturn behavior. And let’s not forget that we have never even seen his face. Fangirls everywhere are demanding that Beast pull down his visage and reveal himself for all to see. Admittedly, I am one of those fangirls. Speculation on Beast’s hair and eye-color will begin tonight at seven.”

Lucian shook his head. There was no mention of his mother, Sabrina, or any of the other strange disappearances Albina highlighted. All the media seemed to give a damn about were Pokémon battles and celebrities like Beast, everyone’s favorite new Pokémon Master. After a short commercial break, the news anchor’s melodic voice returned to discuss…

“The famous Pokémon Trainer Cynthia has yet to make a statement regarding her absence last week at the Sinnoh Pokémon League. As you should recall, Beast triumphed over the Sinnoh native in a match where Cynthia failed to show up to defend her title. It is a Champion’s duty to respond to challengers within a twenty-four hour window. Once that period closes, the challenger wins automatically.” 

 _How could I forget_? Lucian thought. Cynthia disappeared a few weeks ago. Previously, he had thought nothing of it. So unassuming, it had seemed, for a talented Pokémon Trainer to journey into the unknown, leaving friends, family, and the rest of the world behind. No, something truly strange was happening. Granted, Albina didn’t mention Cynthia. He remembered her underscoring Gym Leaders, including Janine, Lieutenant Surge, Blaine, and as of this morning his mother, Sabrina. _I wonder if Cynthia could be connected._

“So, two pertinent questions are, where has Cynthia gone and when will she return? It draws parallels to the now fabled disappearance of Red–”

Lucian’s attention sprang towards the television, his body too, spinning around to confront the glowing screen.

“–who hasn’t been seen in years. Many believe that Red left the public eye to complete his Pokédex and refuses to return until it’s finished. Maybe somewhere out there right now, in the vast Pokémon world, Red is on his way home, having captured the last Pokémon. When Red and Cynthia do return, what kind of Pokémon will they have in their arsenal? And how will the Pokémon League and subsequent challengers respond? Only time will tell. This has been Ariana breaking down your day at daybreak. Farewell, comrades. I will see you this evening, at dusk, with the latest Pokémon News.”          

Lucian gaped at the rectangular screen in silence for several seconds before looking down and seeing the pair of maroon khakis hanging around his knees. His hands trembled so much as he pulled them up all the way that he had trouble with the button.

Red was a one-time Pokémon Champion, claiming the title years ago, long before Lucian was even born. Of course, Red was far more famous as the adolescent hero who dismantled Team Rocket.

That was common knowledge. There was much more to Red than most people knew.

There was an entire army of stories pertaining to “The Legend” circulating on the web. Lucian used to spend a lot of his time digging through them, chronicles, speculations, theories. Most were quite interesting, though few seemed very plausible. For example, one story suggested that Red’s Pikachu had defeated an Onix in single combat. How ridiculous was that? Another something he read, an inane theory, put forth the idea that Red captured the Legendary Psychic Pokémon Mewtwo, a scientific abomination created by Team Rocket, which he then used to trounce the evil organization time and time again.

It was all a bunch of silly fanfiction.

There was one absurdity that Lucian had never come across on the internet; the idea that Red, who was far too busy for any kind of romantic relationship, had a son.

Ironic then, that such nonsense was the truth.  

Red was Lucian’s father. And he detested that jerk more than anyone else in the world. That _Legend_ abandoned his family, and for what? Fame? Fortune? Glory?

Save for Lucian and his mother, no one, not even the voracious public media seemed to know. He assumed his mother was embarrassed. That, or just too sad to talk openly about it. She used to cry when he was little. Even back then, he knew why. Sometimes, alone in his room, he cried too.

Just thinking about _him_ now was infuriating. Hearing the name “Red” on the news, it gave him an empty feeling, as if his bones were hollow and his muscles were made of mush.  

Turning off the television, he sighed as he returned his attention to his wardrobe. If he was going to venture into a judgmental world, he could at least look good. An appealing exterior might even overshadow his internal weirdness.

He found a black shirt with a button-down collar. It was a tight fit. If anything could explain the constriction, it had to be all the push-ups he had been doing lately, though he did them more out of boredom than for good looks or health. A matching outfit was essential, though. Maroon pants elicited the need for an equivalent top. The maroon long-sleeved blazer was the perfect complement.

Unfortunately, they also reminded him of his father.

He had first worn the maroon duo, the khakis and the blazer, two years ago when he was seventeen. It was a day he would never forget. It was one of those anomalous days his mother convinced him to leave his prison-sanctuary and go shopping with her. She tricked him into it by persuading him that he needed to update his wardrobe. She was well-aware of Lucian’s passion for fashion. In reality, Lucian knew his mother was determined to get him out of the house on a more permanent basis. That particular day, she took him to a men’s dress clothes retailer where she ended up purchasing the maroon outfit.   

Trying it on, he remembered his mother complimenting his looks. “You look absolutely dashing, Lucy,” she had said. “You’re going to make a lady very lucky someday.”

Lucian remembered his response after she said that. “Thanks mom. Ha-ha, what can I say? I have good genes.”

He had meant only her genes.

Nonetheless, his mother had choked up after he said those words. Her cerise eyes filling with tears, he remembered what she told him. “You look just like him, Lucy. So handsome, just like your father.”

Just thinking about that, about _him_ , about his father again, it was so infuriating he felt compelled to take out his anger on an unassuming fluffy white pillow. And for a solid minute, he did. Beating the shit out of that pillow also eased the anxiety pertaining to the unknown status of his mother, if only slightly.    

Everything seemed to be in order; dressy pants to cover up his butt-crack as well as an elegant top to shield the world from his nipples. To top it all off, in his closet he discovered a stylish pair of purple sunglasses. Albina and Einstein were wearing sunglasses in the black of night. It had to be the latest fashion-craze or something. The purple matched his hair and eyes. Purple was also his second favorite color. Orange was number one on his list. His eleventh favorite color was lime green.

Deodorant for his armpits. Check. ChapStick smeared over his lips. Check. Long, messy purple hair that the ladies would hopefully find adorable, or at least tolerable. Check.  

As Lucian tied the laces of his black boots, something rather odd caught his eye. All the way across the room, he spotted it, below one of the windows. Finishing the knot, he quickly rounded the bed and paced over there for a closer look. It appeared to be filtering through the seal, gooey residue slowly oozing through the slender gap on the bottom and dripping quietly onto the floor. Breathing through his nose was a mistake, a giant fucking mistake. It reeked so bad he reeled back a good ten feet. The sludge began proliferating very quickly, a purple puddle at first that grew bigger and fatter, forming a large blob.

It was like his window was taking a shit. 

Two smaller pallid blobs trickled under the crease. They instantly began expanding, blossoming into large snowballs that withdrew from each other laterally. At first, Lucian’ felt strangely curious. Whenever something abnormal happened in his life, it usually fascinated him if it was mostly innocuous. Like the time he tripped and took a nasty fall down the stairs. Sure he had sprained an ankle, but besides that it was mostly innocuous. The pudgy bluish-purple foot that hampered his ability to walk for about a week forced him to stay in bed all day and read; which wasn’t a problem at all. Plus, that fat foot was fucking fascinating.     

Even then, as his window was literally taking a dumb on the carpeting, Lucian’s curiosity overshadowed any apprehension. In fact, if it weren’t for that terrible stench he might have reached out and touched it. From a scientific outlook, this was intriguing. Moreover, what could be the catalyst of this strange encounter?

That captivated feeling faded upon his making that discovery.    

 _Those white ovals are fucking eyeballs_.

Lucian’s body contorted instantly. He peeled back all the way to his bed where his psyche shouted, _Hide, fucking hide you dumbass_! Planting his knees on the other side of the mattress, he buried his body from view save for a pair of peeking eyes.

That purple blob over there next to his window, he knew exactly what it was. It was a Pokémon, specifically a Muk. Lucian made sure to avoid the Pokémon’s snowy eyeballs, instead focusing his vision on the slushy purple hand which began groping the window. He heard a faint _click_ and the window was yanked open. Immediately, the sound of rain was amplified as a whish of chilly air filtered through.

As if things couldn’t get any weirder, a black shape climbed through the open space.        

Lucian didn’t dare move a muscle.    

The intruder was undoubtedly a man, a tall figure suited up in a form-fitting black jumpsuit which shrouded his body from the neck down. Much of the man’s face was covered as well, by a black balaclava. Only his two eyes were exposed. Behind him, a red cape swayed half-way down his back. Without delay, the dark figure meticulously closed the window, muffling the pouring rain outside. After that, he gave his environment a curt scan.

“I can see you back there,” Lucian heard the intruder say in a gruff voice.

Lucian didn’t budge, nor did he make a peep.

“You, over there behind the bed. The purple hair, the purple glasses, both really hard to miss.”

Lucian shrunk his head down, lying flat on his stomach, his heart doing summersaults.

“Really kid?” Lucian heard the sound of squishy wet feet. Seconds later, “All dressed up, I see. You going somewhere?”

That voice came from up above. Still on his chest and elbows, Lucian craned his neck. Yup, the black shape was right there, his masked face hovering overhead like a dark sun. Just by the way the areas around his dark eyes were crinkled, Lucian could tell he was smiling underneath that mask.

The Muk slithered beside the shadowy intruder, leaving a trial of grimy sludge. The foul creature’s gaping mouth was as wide as the opening to a washing machine. One gulp, that’s all it would take to swallow a man whole.   

“An early riser,” the shadowy intruder said, cocking his masked head. “I’m impressed. I was expecting to find you in your bed, under the covers, fast-asleep.”

The fuck? Lucian was the polar opposite of an early riser. Very slowly, carefully, he arose. On two feet, he was about the same height as the man with the mask. “Where – is my – mother?” he managed, his voice shaky yet demanding, his eyes unrelenting as they stared at that masked face intently.

“As a matter of fact, the bounty is on you young man.”

Lucian’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you want with me?”

“I don’t. Someone else does.”

A chill shot up Lucian’s spine. That fear that was quickly expunged, replaced by flashes of anger. “Who is it that wants to see me? And what the hell have they done with my mother?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss such matters. Though how about this proposal, Lucian, son of Sabrina: I challenge you to a Pokémon battle. If I lose, I give you my word I will depart and you may remain here. But if I win, you have to come with me, quietly too. Do we have a deal?”

Lying through his teeth was never a strong suit of Lucian’s. He never had the opportunity to Tauros-shit. He was apt at deciphering all the subtle signals. He knew what not to do. But knowledge and execution were two vastly different words. And concepts. “Totally,” he said, failing to maintain eye contact despite knowing full-well he should. “Actually, if you could just, um, let me mull that over for a few minutos. Maybe grab my Pokémon, too, I don’t really have them on me at the moment. My balls are downstairs…my Pokéballs. Down, uh, down the stairs.” 

Suddenly, there was a distinct barking sound. It came from below. The masked man heard it too, his eyes darting south before meeting Lucian’s gaze once more.

“Reinforcements, eh?”

There was that barking again. It sounded close, and it was getting closer.

With everyone expecting it to happen, the door to the bedroom flew open.

The masked man held his ground, even when the golden-white fox rushed forward, barring his fangs, snarling menacingly at the two intruders, human and Pokémon alike. Sandwiched between Lucian and the fox, the blobby Muk skidded in front of its master, confronting the enemy Pokémon who presented a far greater threat than the young man with purple hair and violet eyes.

“A Ninetails,” the man in the mask said as he turned to face Lucian, his leaden voice containing a pinch of shock. The man’s dark eyes shifted again, drifting to the entryway. There were the thuds of fast-moving feet barging up the stairs and then barreling down the hallway.

Einstein rumbled through first, his girth just barely fitting through the door.  Behind him, Lucian expected to see a woman with blue hair posing as an Officer Jenny. A Police Officer, even a fake one might scare the intruder off.

Instead, it was just a girl with long blonde hair wearing a school uniform.

“We’re here, Lucian!” she shouted. Only when the blonde spoke did he realize it was Albina. She had those tinted sunglasses on again, too.

“An Ace Trainer,” the masked man uttered. With surprising agility, he scaled away from the bed towards the window he came through. The giant purple sludge followed him like a soldier guarding its commanding officer. 

Lucian retreated in the opposite direction, planting his roots like an innocent Oddish next to Albina and Einstein. The Ninetails trotted alongside him. 

“Thanks for coming,” Lucian said, scanning Albina over, up and down. She had completely changed her look. She was wearing a gray plaid bodice with a white collar around the neck. Long gray socks stretched up to her knees, and the rest of her bronze legs were bare below a miniskirt, which was even shorter than the last one. Finally, the blue hair was gone, replaced by a lengthy throng of yellow which dangled down her back.   

“Great outfit,” she cried, her blonde head bobbing as she looked him over. “The purple glasses match your hair and red really suits you, Lucian.” Motioning with her head, she then said, “Who’s your friend?”  

“You’ll never guess. The guy wants to take me as his prisoner.”

Albina ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Hey,” she cried, aiming her inflection at the man in black. “Who are you and what have you done with Sabrina?” Lucian was glad she asked what he already had. This intruder definitely knew something about his mother. In fact, Lucian was convinced he was involved with her disappearance. _Maybe_ , he thought, _even directly responsible for it_.   

“I am here for honorable battle, little girl,” the masked man grumbled, his black eyes picking them apart, absorbing their strengths and weaknesses. His movement was adroit, his posture rigid. Lucian likened him to a ninja.

“Your boyfriend has already agreed to fight me,” the intruder continued, pointing directly at the young man.  

Turning towards him, Albina gave Lucian a long, unabashed look. Lucian pushed his glasses up over his face, but he knew they weren’t completely opaque. Keeping his eyes pointed forward on the masked man, Lucian was really watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“Lucian?”

Lucian met the tint of her thick, black sunglasses. “What?”

“Good luck,” she mouthed quietly, giving him a thumb’s up.

“What?” he hissed, positive he had misunderstood.

“This is your first Pokémon battle. Good luck. Einstein and I are rooting for you!”

“Wait, what?”

“I said–”

“–I heard what you said. I just…what the hell are you talking about? I told you, I don’t have any Pokémon. I wasn’t acting down there, I was being serious…”

“So borrow this one.” She unclipped something off her belt and tossed it to him. Only by his reflexes did he catch it. It was small, round, cool to the touch. The top half was red, the bottom chalky white. Of all things, it was a fucking Pokéball. Lucian almost dropped it like it was a pan of something hot he had taken out of the stove and he wasn’t wearing oven mitts.

“That’s Alabaster’s Pokéball,” Albina said to Lucian’s utter shock.

He shook his head defiantly. “I can’t just use your Ninetails. He doesn’t belong to me.”

Albina grinned. “You’ve got it all wrong. Ally belongs to no one. He is a free Pokémon. He goes wherever he wants. He fights with me because he wants to. Ask him if he will do the same for you.”

Something nudged Lucian’s left leg. It was the Ninetails. Alabaster’s narrow right shoulder was pressed up against the back of the young man’s thigh. His yellow ears were pointed straight up, ever alert. And then, something grazed Lucian’s left ass-cheek. Nearly petrified, the young man’s neck squeaked around where he discovered a mass of bulky, beautiful tails swaying arbitrarily back and forth, like tree branches dancing in the wind. 

“Hey there, Alabaster,” Lucian heard himself say. 

_Good morning, human._

Lucian’s violet eyes widened. _That voice_ , he realized with sprinkles of disbelief, _it’s like it came from inside._

It chimed again.

_I know you can hear me whisper. The question is, can you whisper back?_

“I hear you,” Lucian gasped, “loud and clear.” He glanced down again and found two burning cinders staring back. Immediately, Lucian felt a spark of pain, forcing him to dart away.

 _I am not a true Psychic_ , that faint voice quaked in his skull. _My powers in this regard are limited. I cannot explore your mind, as others can. I cannot bend Light. But I can shine mine. It allows me to whisper to others. Very few humans can whisper back._

Lucian’s heart was pounding so hard he swore it was going to burst. The Ninetails was communicating with him, talking telepathically, _whispering_. Swallowing stones, the Psychic man closed his vision, surrounding his perception in darkness. He refused to look at the Pokémon; he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, to risk it. Instead, he pictured the Ninetails in his head. Within the abyss, a creature spawned, one with a golden-white coat, a thin snout and nine swirly tails. Its brooding crimson eyes were boiling. Lucian couldn’t believe what he was about to do, or try to do. A chunk of his psyche hoped he would fail as he pushed forward, projecting his thoughts dead ahead, into that image of the Ninetails.

_Can you hear me?_

Lucian instantly felt something from the fox Pokémon. It was transitory, evaporating as quickly as it came; a spark of delight.  

Alabaster: _Yes, human. I see your Light._

Lucian: _The Light? What do you mean by that?_

Alabaster: _The Light exists within all of us, for each of us possesses a mind, a home for the Light to live and for some, a beacon where it may shine. When I shine my Light on you, you can see it. Unlike most humans, you can shine your Light back on me._

Lucian: _I don’t understand. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary at all._

Alabaster: _You confuse the Light with our sky father, the Everlasting Ember. This Light is not something you see with your eyes. It exists on the inside. Within your mind._

Lucian: _So_ _how am I able to perceive it?_

Alabaster: _You see my Light now because I shine it on you. Most can see the Light when it shines their way. But not all can shine their own Light. This Light does not shine freely like that which is given to us all by the Everlasting Ember._  

Lucian _: Okay, but still, how? Why is a person, a human-being like myself capable of this?_

Alabaster: _All Psychics can use telekinesis to some degree. Some have visions of the future. Fewer can shine their Light. Fewer still can bend it._

Lucian: _So, the Light is equivalent to thought_? _Thoughts_? _Everyone has thoughts, humans and Pokémon, but not all can project them_? _Only Psychics can do it?_  

Alabaster: _That is correct, human_.  

Lucian: _Can Albina shine her Light?_

Alabaster _: No, she is not like you._

Lucian _: What about Einstein?_

Alabaster: _No, he is not like me._

Lucian: _What about this creep with the mask._

Alabaster: _It is doubtful, but I cannot know for sure. Only benders can find Lights not shined upon them._

Lucian: _Benders, what are they_?

Alabaster: _Those who bend Light can find it in others, even if that Light does not shine, like mine does now on you. I cannot bend light. I can only see yours when you shine it on me. But a bender need not have a Light shined upon them to see it._

Lucian: _Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to be conceited. Let’s see, how can I phrase this eloquently; okay, does this have anything to do with intellect?_

Alabaster: _No. But its access does present more opportunities. The Light is as vast as our sky father. Such knowledge can be yours, if you choose to seek it._

Lucian: _Oh, okay, I think I’m getting this._

Alabaster: _Human. You have given me warmth. Allow me to return the favor. I will lend you my ember._

Lucian hesitated to respond. He was out of breath, panting literally. During much of their telepathic conversation he had neglected to breathe. So many thoughts were circulating in his mind. Light. Those thoughts of his were Light. His brain produced Light. 

Most singular of all about this discovery was his new understanding pertaining to his Psychic powers. Could it be that he was a bender, one who could bend Light, could read the minds of others? Was this his curse, his illness? When Lucian looked into the eyes of Pokémon, was it their Light he saw. Based off of everything the Ninetails just told him, it made sense.

He glanced down at Alabaster. Immediately Lucian’s eyes fled. In that split-second his violet eyes touched crimson, Lucian felt a flash of searing agony. And then, the young man heard a voice inside his head.   

_Why won’t he look at me?_

Lucian’s eyes widened once more. It took him just a few moments to realize that the Ninetails had not shined that knowledge, his Light, upon him. That was what the Pokémon was pondering to himself. _I overheard his thoughts_. _I intercepted his Light._ _That must be what he means by being able to bend it._ The realization that he had literally infiltrated Alabaster’s mind was daunting. _This is my illness,_ Lucian told himself. B _ending, it has to be…Oh fuck, he’s been waiting for me to whisper back._

Lucian: _Ninetails? Are you there?_

Alabaster: _I see your Light. It shines brightly, human._

Lucian: _Sorry for taking so long, that was rude of me. I’ve just been thinking. Letting it sink in. I have a ton questions._   

Alabaster: _They will have to wait._

“Shall I take your silence as capitulation?”

That voice was outward, articulated by the man in the mask. The intruder’s arms were crossed and his nimble-looking body slouched from boredom.

Reality reared its ugly head, and when it did, doubt began to pile up in Lucian’s psyche. “I can’t do this,” he said, his voice barely audible, his eyes falling on the Pokéball in his hand. _I’m nothing like my father,_ he reminded himself. _Nothing like my mother, either_. _I’m not a Pokémon Master. I’m not even a Pokémon Trainer._

“You look nervous, kid. I’ll ask you again. Are you sure you want to put yourself through this?”

Lucian met his adversary’s gaze. “Let’s get this over with.”

“So be it. Though, with only one Pokémon, I must admit: I pity you. I really do. But I pity your Ninetails the most. When it faints – You – are coming with me.”           

Lucian heard someone giggle. It was Albina. “When Lucian wins, you have to take that mask off.”

“Ah, curious, are you little girl?”

“I am,” she jeered. Lucian glanced back. She had a pensive expression on her face, her hands on her hips.

“Very well. We have a deal. Now, Lucian, son of Sabrina, let us begin.” His bored stance ceased, his legs sprang apart and his shoulders dropped back as he karate-chopped the air. “Muk! On my mark.”

Alabaster: _Prepare yourself, human._  

Lucian: _I’ll do my best._

Alabaster: _Your Light is bright. Keep it on me._

Lucian: _I’ll try. I just have so much on my mind._

Alabaster: _Later, I will shed light on what I can._

Lucian felt his lips curl into a grin.

Lucian: _Nice pun, Ninetails! Oh and one more thing, just as a disclaimer: forgive me if I let you down here. I’ve never done this before._

Alabaster: _Such thoughts are unproductive, human. Let go. Focus your Light on our battle. Concentrate on me._

Until then, the masked man’s gruff voice had been leaden and quiet. Against that nature, his lungs suddenly amplified ten-fold. “Fwahahaha! Muk! Use toxic!”

A streak of acid flew rapidly towards the fox Pokémon.

“Ninetails!” Lucian yelled reflexively. “Watch out!” 

The little fox reacted with grace, springing far out of the line of caustic fire, his mass of tails not the least bit cumbersome. The corrosive slab whisked past, splattering all over Lucian’s bookcase. Upon impact, it immediately began sizzling as it gobbled two entire shelves along with a battalion of some of his dearest pieces of literature.

Gaping in disbelief, his hands tangled in his purple hair and ripping at thick strands, Lucian unbridled a squeamish moan. “Oh, now you’ve done it, you steaming bag of Tauros-shi–”  

Alabaster: _Stop shouting, human. Whisper. We have an advantage._

“Oh, right,” Lucian spluttered before covering his mouth with both hands.

Lucian: _Sorry. This is going to take some getting used to. Also, fuck this guy…sorry._

He noticed the Ninetails wasn’t attacking. He was waiting for direction.

“Muk! Let’s fortify our defenses. Acid Armor.”

Purple bubbles rose like fumes around the sludgy Pokémon’s liquefied body. If the smell was awful before, it was now on the verge of unbearable. 

“Such a repulsive creature,” Lucian heard Albina squeal from behind. The blonde was pinching her nose, so her enunciation sort of sounded about how he imagined a Tepig’s would. Lucian was glad he could _whisper_ to the Ninetails telepathically instead of having to speak aloud.

Indubitably, Albina was right. Muk wasn’t the most charming of Pokémon. Added to the augmented stench was a more robust Physical Defense. Acid Armor, however, did nothing to boost its Special Defense. Ninetails’ Special Fire attacks would likely do a considerable amount of damage. Lucian was wary to use flame, though. _Not in here, not in my room_ , he thought. _I don’t want mother’s house burning down…Mother…I have to win this fight for her._

At the same time, he had to ignore the distractions. That included his nagging pessimism, the fear of the unknown, even the repercussions of losing. He had to focus his mind, his Light on the Ninetails. This wasn’t about him. It was about them.

“Muk get in close and line up a Gunk Shot!”

The giant glob moved slowly, but not that slow. It plowed forward full steam ahead. Lucian knew it was now or never. Muk’s typing was Poison. It’s weakness: Psychic. Lucian knew full-well that Alabaster had some degree of Psychic ability.     

Lucian: _Ninetails, shine your Light upon him. Blind him with your Extrasensory!_

When all nine of Alabaster’s tails flared out like the magnificent blooming of a flower, the radiance in the room flickered thrice in quick succession before blinking out entirely. For mere moments which felt like many out minutes, the dark swallowed everything, save for the tips of those nine tails, which glowed violet.

At last, the darkness withdrew to reveal a wicked white light. It saturated the arena around them, casting everything in resplendent splendor; the pale clay of the velvet carpeting, the soft lavender on the walls, the furry salmon of his bedspread, Einstein’s man-pretty pinkish face, the rusted hue of Albina’s twinkling skin, even the white of the masked man’s eyes which seemed to standout against the dark.

The centerpiece of it all was Alabaster, whose laminating golden-white glow was as alluring as the sun. At last, that light dissipated as did the vivid lacquer it had fermented.  

 _Well done, human_ , Lucian must have overhead the Ninetails think to himself.   

The purple Muk was no longer a disgusting garbage heap. Reduced to an oozing pool of amorphous slush, its cataleptic white eyes parted ways like two fish-Pokémon in a pond. 

Muk had fainted. The man in the mask shook his head in disbelief. “Return,” he said morosely, holding up its Pokéball. A beam of red light shot towards it and the purple puddle vanished. When the intruder clipped the Pokéball back at his side, it dramatically shrunk in size. Latched onto his belt were several more spherical shapes. Lucian counted six in total.

“You should know,” the masked man said, his voice laced with gaiety, “that I was expecting something like this. Let’s see how you adapt to this one.”

He bent down on one knee, his red cape flaring, and rolled a Pokéball towards them like he was at a bowling alley and they were the pins. The spherical device skidded swiftly across the carpeted floor before exploding in a flash of brilliant white light.

A large, peculiar shape materialized about twenty feet away from Lucian and ten from the Ninetails. Once the light tapered, the young man couldn’t help from shuddering in surprise. A Pokédex was not required. He already knew what that giant thing was: a Drapion. Drapion was a Poison type Pokémon, like Muk. But it had another typing as well.

Alabaster: _A Dark Pokémon._

Lucian: _I was thinking the same thing._

Alabaster: _The Light between us is bright, human. But neither of us can shine upon him. The Dark devours the Light._

Lucian felt a mix of dread and elation when the Ninetails whispered that. First and foremost on his mind was the battle. He had to stay focused. At the same time, a little theory spawned in his mind. It pertained to his Psychic powers and his hypothetical ability to bend the Light. Dark type Pokémon were completely immune to Psychic a la the Light. This fact begged a crucial question. _Can I look into Drapion’s eyes without experiencing what usually happens? Without my mind catching fire? If so, then I know for sure that this curse, my illness, revolves entirely around my Psychic abilities and the bending of Light._

Drapion truly was a sight to behold. Few could call it cute, but it wasn’t ugly either. If anything, its appearance was simply nerve-racking as fuck. Jutting from its purple vertical couch-sized abdomen was a mass of zigzagging coils. Four of them were legs, the ends of which were tipped with a single clawed toe. Lucian likened those claws to mangled, oversized teeth. Compared to its four stubby legs, its remaining protrusions had grown to wild lengths. Its arched neck extended three feet in the air, the end of which displayed a tiny face, and growing on either side of that face, its head, were more extensions, two five-foot-long arms with poisonous eight-inch stingers at their tips. Where the head ended and those arms began was impossible to tell from far away. It had one more five-foot limb with a stinger at its end, an arm jutting from its rear which also served as its tail.     

“Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes?” the shadowy masked intruder uttered proudly.

That tiny face exhibited a pair of clicking, clamping fangs. Above those jaws were its eyes, two pointed slits, like tiny misshapen white beans.

Though terrified of what he was about to try, Lucian knew he had to do it. Squinting, he could just barely see the Dark type’s eyes. He stared deeply into them.

Nothing happened.

Unequivocal joy began to flow through him. He held his gaze, looking into those beady white eyes. Still, nothing. Half-a-minute elapsed and there was no pain. He was right. It was his telepathy. _The culprit has to be the Light_.

Still staring, something began to engulf his senses. It was the pounding of a drum, slow and steady and persistent. To Lucian’s fidgety fright, the room began to tremble, swaying side to side slowly at first, then turbulent. Yet, no one else moved, as if they were frozen in time despite the room’s gravity-defying tempest.

Lucian let loose a shrill scream. That’s all he could do. Invisible ropes precipitously fastened themselves around his hands and ankles. Despite audible protests and vehement attempts to wrench free, the claps refused to abandon their grip. He was wrong, they weren’t ropes at all, those were shackles made of cold, rigid steel.

The worst was yet to come.

An invisible hand placed a giant magnifying glass in front of Drapion’s scrunched face. That face rushed towards him, zooming in, jaws and white eyes expanding, the latter swelling into two round doors which instantly sprang open. Bound and thus immobilized, all Lucian could do was scream and watch as those two round doors began to merge, amalgamating into one giant gateway. There was the hum of ventilation and just like that he began to inch forward, directly towards that cavity in the middle of his room like it was a black hole sucking him into another dimension. As he was swept through, Lucian spun around and around like he was the minute hand on a clock and time was flying by.

Screaming evermore, he only stopped when the spinning did. When at last the shackles unclasped, Lucian fell a short ways before landing on his hands and knees.

Trembling uncontrollably, he tried screaming more objectively. “Help me! Somebody, please! HAAAAALP!” That voice, his voice echoed over and over and over again as if he was stranded at the bottom of a canyon.

“Hello? Is anybody there? Where the fuck am I!?”

The only answer he received was his own discordant cry, which grew fainter and fainter until dissipating at last. Wherever he was, it was filled with black nothingness. Despite his solitary past, never before in all his years had Lucian felt so utterly alone.

That blackened place would have been an empty vacuum if not for the exhibition of a small orange light. It flickered in the distance many miles away. With nowhere else to go, Lucian sprinted towards it.

Hours went by, it seemed, until at long last he thought he was making headway. It looked like a bonfire. It was a real flame, too. As he drew closer he could feel the heat caress his face. Stopping right in front of it, he peered down below at the tiny orange flare in front of his boots. Within those smoldering flames he saw a bright light. And within the light, he saw images, flashing like moving pictures on a television screen, but moving far too fast to ascertain as if someone was fast-forwarding them. He heard whispers. Glancing around, there was nothing, no one in sight. Those voices were low and indistinct. And they were coming, he realized, from the bonfire.

Lucian dropped down on his knees and inched his head closer to the flickering flame, nearly touching it as he listened intently. The voices grew louder. “I know, Drapion,” said someone in a husky, dejected tone. “I don’t want to either, but we must. We have to do it. We have to, for her.”

Within the fizzing flames, the fizzling image of a girl appeared. Her purplish-brown hair was tied back, and she wore a smile on her face. Lucian thought it to be a sad, glum smile.

A trill breeze swept through that dark near-empty place, and with it the tiny flame flickered away.

 “–Fwahahaha!”

Lucian batted his eyes furiously. He was back. It was like no time had elapsed at all. It was like everything he just saw and heard never fucking happened.

Parked in front of him was an elegant creature, his nine furry tails flaring. Opposite of the golden-white fox stood a giant purple scorpion-Pokémon, its pincers mincing at the air. Drapion didn’t look the least bit nervous. In fact, it looked hungry, those fangs on its face clicking and clacking. Its master, the man in the mask, shrieked again.

 “Fwahahaha! None of you amateurs can match my preeminence. Go ahead kid. Just try using another Psychic type move. I dare you.”

“Amateurs…” Lucian whirled around. Clutching her ribs, Albina had broken into shameless laughter. “Who are you supposed to be, anyways?” she cried, her giggling dreadfully buoyant.       

The masked man folded his arms, unimpressed and unamused. “If only you knew, little girl. Your boyfriend here doesn’t stand a chance against a Master like me. This Drapion is going to wipe the floor with Ninetails. Drapion will wipe that foolish smirk off your face, as well.”

Albina’s posture straightened. Her rosy lips twisted into a wider grin as she said, “Oh, but you see, I think I do know. We’ve met, I’m sure of it. Hmmm. Kalos? Unova? Sinnoh?  Somewhere else, maybe? I’ve seen it all. Victory Road in Hoenn? No, no, NO! Here in Kanto I think. Yes, your voice is so very familiar. I’ve heard it before. In fact, I do know who you are!” She started jumping up and down in exuberant excitement. “We’ve battled once already. Here, take a look!”

As obsequious as a servant, Einstein reached into his black bag and, with a meaty hand, culled a silver container. He handed it to Albina who, after saying, “Thank you, my darling,” flipped the two metal latches and, after opening it, propped up its contents for everyone to see. It was a holding case for Pokémon Gym Badges. It only took a few seconds for Lucian to discern that they belonged to the Kanto region. There were one, two, four, six…the sixth was gold, a small circle surrounded by a larger one. It was the Marsh Badge.

“You’ve bested my mother,” Lucian huffed, astonished. That wasn’t all. She had badges seven and eight too. His knees buckled. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

With a jagged white fingernail, Albina pointed to the first object on the second row, the fifth badge, a pink ornament in the shape of a heart. “Take a look…” she said, “…it’s the Soul Badge.” The masked man didn’t say anything, and he certainly didn’t look surprised covered nearly head to toe, but Lucian figured he had to be at least a quarter as stunned as he was. Which would still be a helluva lot.

That girl was qualified to battle the Indigo Elite Four.

“Persian got your tongue?” The blonde shut the case rather violently before discarding it back over to the meathead. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Aw, that’s okay. I’ve had an extreme makeover. You can’t even imagine! Here. Maybe these will jog your memory.” She removed her sunglasses.

Those scarlet eyes of hers glowed like two miniature setting suns.

Lucian glanced back at the man in the mask. Far behind his Drapion, those dark eyes of his were wide with surprise. A faltering finger pointed her way as he breathed, “ _You_ , dear Arceus no, it can’t be…” He took a meager step back. And then another. Followed by another.

“What’s wrong?” Albina said, those eyes of hers ablaze. “Not happy to see me? I’m absolutely _dee-lighted_ to see you, Koga.”

 _Koga_? Lucian found that accusation more than a little bit insane.

The man shook his masked head frantically. “This isn’t possible…” 

“This is the third time we’ve met. The second time I found you in Fuchsia City. Do you remember, Koga? Remember how surprised we both were? I could not believe such a _rotten_ human was permitted to own Pokémon, more or less run his own Gym. And look at you now, a member of the Indigo Elite Four. What a joke.”She unleashed a series of giggles. “Let’s add more fuel to the fire. I suspect you’ll remember who this is!” She threw her dainty arms around the person who, out of all of them had been completely silent the whole time; the man-pretty guy in the black suit. He returned the gesture, holding her close to him.  

“This,” Albina said, her head resting under his arm, “is my beloved little Einstein.”

The masked man’s reaction was instant. He stepped backwards and stumbled clumsily before tumbling down flat on his ass. “Einstein…Albina,” he uttered, his words tentative, in sync to his body, “Listen you two…I never meant to…you don’t understand. It’s not all black and white. You never let me explain before. I didn’t have a choice!” He removed his mask and threw it aside, baring his face for all to see. His spikey hair was gray, his face gaunt and hardened. Lucian felt wobbly. _It really is him. Koga, a member of the Indigo Elite Four._

“Please, PLEASE! Just give me a chance! Hear me out, OKAY?! They have my–!”

The moment Albina opened her mouth, the unmasked man’s plea vanished like candlelight caught in the wind. The replacement was soft, crisp, almost soothing. “That’s Koga,” she said, pointing towards the waning old man. “We remember Koga, don’t we my love?” Her voice was but a whisper. “Oh yes. How could we forget?” Einstein’s face had that flushed look again as Albina released him. That face, there was something so familiar about it.

Then and there, the big guy dropped his bag. It was hefty, making a loud **thud** after it plummeted to the floor. To Lucian’s bewilderment, Einstein began stripping down. Undoing his pink tie, he ripped it off before tossing it aside like it was garbage. His suit followed suite, then his white undershirt as well, both being thrown down at his feet.

Slabs of twitchy tanned meat clung to Einstein’s expansive monolith. On his upper body an entire network of vines wrapped all around, swollen veins that throbbed as if the blood churning inside were attempting a futile exodus. As he cracked his neck, which created a chain of grating creaks, the normally serene, bland expression draped over his face changed. His lower lip quivered, like he was on the verge of tears or incredibly pissed. Shuffling his brawny shoulders, he began marching forward, towards Koga, towards the massive Drapion as well which was even bigger and meaner looking than he was.

Alabaster growled in their direction, but then grew silent as Einstein ran a meaty hand gently over those swirly tails, silently telling him to stay back.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lucian called. Words didn’t seem to register. Einstein, his v-shaped back to everyone but Koga and his Pokémon marched on. Face to face with the Drapion, the man with cahoonas the size of planets parked his girth not three feet from that overgrown aberration. If the scorpion-Pokémon was ordered to do so, or simply had the nerve, it was in range to slit Einstein’s throat with a single swing of one of those elongated, stinger tipped limbs. Lucian hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Instead, based on conjecture, he was convinced he was on the verge of witnessing a melee brawl between the Ninja Master and the subdued yet brawny male model. From behind, Lucian watched as the topless man leisurely reached towards his bald head. When Einstein’s meaty hand returned down to his side, Lucian noticed it was clutching a pair of sunglasses.   

Maybe the Ninetails could shed light on what was happening.

Lucian: _I’m missing something. What’s the hell is going on?_

Alabaster: _Albina and Einstein have history with Koga._

Lucian: _Yeah, I’ve gathered that much. What happened?_

Alabaster: _There are things about Albina and Einstein you cannot understand. Whether or not it remains that way is up to them._  

The Drapion appeared about as confused as Lucian. It kept glancing back and forth between its visibly shaken master and the shirtless man within arms-reach, its long limbs shaking to and fro.

“Let’s make a new deal, shall we?” Albina said, a wide pasty smirk pasted on her face. In one of her hands she was holding Einstein’s black bag, and in the other she grasped a red and white spherical device. She pointed the round shape, a Pokéball, out in front of her. “You against me. If you win…no wait, that’s silly! When I win, Koga, you are coming with me.”  

Lying on his ass, the shaken intruder hastily gathered himself. “You’re insane,” he muttered, climbing to his feet. Deftly removing a Pokéball from his belt, the unmasked man pressed it against his mouth. When he did, Lucian saw his lips move fervently, as if he was having with it a brisk conversation.

“Go, Weezing,” he yelled. “You know what to do!”

Koga threw the ball with an odd spin. It scudded swiftly along the carpeting, landing not two feet away from the Drapion. There was a flash of light, and from it a purple beast with two conjoined oval-heads emerged.

With a sense of urgency both faces, the bigger one on the left and the smaller one on the right, inhaled deeply before expelling two black clouds. It was an Attack!

When it used its Smokescreen, a solid gray mist proliferated throughout the entire room, shrouding everything, even the squishy velvet carpeting beneath Lucian’s feet. He couldn’t see a damn thing and he could hardly breathe.

Neither was as alarming as what ensued.

A shrill, savage scream that could only have come from the bowels of hell exploded in Lucian’s ear drums.

“ **TYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**!”

It shredded his senses to such an extent it necessitated he mash his ears together all while simultaneously releasing a cry of his own, a sound that he couldn’t even perceive alongside something so ear-splittingly foreboding. His heart ricocheting frantically behind his left breastplate, Lucian felt compelled to move, to run despite being blind.

Staggering forward in the haze, he searched frantically for furry tails, or human flesh, an arm, a leg, long hair, even a bulgy bicep, he wanted, needed to find someone so they could get the fuck out of there.

He ended up smashing head-first into the wall, a blow which spat him down on his hands and knees. As he secured the glasses on his face, the panicked young man tasted metal and felt for his mouth. His tongue was spot-on, that was blood, warm and runny on his lips. Crawling now on his hands and knees, he used his should to keep along the wall, to keep from getting lost.          

Amidst the obscured chaos, Lucian discerned a feminine voice he recognized.  

“Bulldoze it into oblivion!”

“ **TYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**!”

The very heavens seemed to shriek. Worse than anything, worse than even that bloodcurdling cry was the deluge of fire that abruptly burned in Lucian’s eyes. Somehow, against all logic and reason the Drapion had fainted. Lucian couldn’t see it, but he could feel the Pokémon’s agony as it was flung aside like a rag doll. Now it lay in a mess of tattered, tangled limbs, three of its stubby legs completely limp as one twitched crazily. Lucian could feel it, could hear its heartbeat in his head, a slow, gradual thumping as it clung to life. 

Trembling outstretched hands wrapped around something round and cold. To Lucian’s immense relief, it was the door knob.

Albina’s voice rang again. “Now it’s your turn, you _rotten_ creature. Eviscerate it with Psycho Cut!”

Lucian couldn’t see a fucking thing. As loud as he could muster, he yelled, “Ninetails! Albina! Where are you? I found the door!”

First, Lucian heard the clapping of fast-approaching feet. Second, he heard someone say quietly, “Found you,” and after that he found himself trying to fend off something in the gloom. It pounced knees-first on his back. Koga, it had to be. Lucian’s own knees collapsed under the weight, forcing the rest of his body down to the ground. Then, as if his problems couldn’t get any worse, he found himself in a headlock.

“Shhhh,” Lucian heard Koga pronounce inches form his ear. “Go to sleep, kid. Quickly now. I must take you with me.”

Lucian opened his mouth to call for help, but nothing auditory escaped except for a hushed spluttering. His already hampered vision was blurring. Blood and saliva trickled down his lips. His breathing was shallow as he tried to propel himself forward using nothing but his elbows. Blunt knees pinned down even harder after that. Arms which were locked in tight, tightened. Everything was fading black. At a time like this, Lucian really wished he was an Abra. Then he could just teleport away, far, far away.

More footsteps. These were loud, heavy, gigantic as they approached.

 **BOOM**. **BOOM**. **BOOM**. **BOOM**.  

Then, that awful screeching returned, this time in such propinquity Lucian felt as if he were soaring high in the clouds alongside a stampeding ball of thunder.

“ **TYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**!”

All of a sudden, there was a more-human scream, a pitched squeal and that grip, all that weight on top of him was gone. Lucian whirled around on his back, gasping, choking from the duel assault on his lungs, the thick smoke now taking precedence. Through the miasma he could perceive the outline of two shapes. One of them looked small and insignificant beside the other, a titanic, unfathomable, dark triangular mountain.    

There was another squeal. It was akin to the last one, and it came from the same shape, the smaller one that paled in comparison to the mountain looming in the bedroom. The miniscule outline was frozen in midair, like a Goldeen caught by a fisherman, hanging there by the hook all the while thrashing about in hopeless frenzy. Lucian wasn’t sure if what he saw was real or a nightmarish hallucination. The fog was dense; enough to cloak most of everything, but not so much as to obstruct a brilliant white light from filtering through. The smaller silhouette exuded an elongated wail before everything grew deathly silent.

Far in the veiled distance, however, Lucian thought his ears picked up something. Under the precarious circumstances, it was a peculiar sound, one of soft, muffled feminine mirth.  

Lying now on his ass, he suddenly felt a slimy serpent attack his face. He would have screamed if the Ninetails had not whispered to him.

Alabaster: _Are you alright, Human?_

A pair of rubies hovered above, glowing through the black smoke. It was the fox Pokémon. Lucian quickly looked away as he tried to clamor to his feet, coughing and suffocating as he did. “Help, me,” he managed to emit. “Please…can’t…breathe…”  

 _Hold onto me,_ that miniscule voice rang inside his head. _Don’t be afraid. I won’t hold a grudge. Come on, let’s go!_

Lucian hesitated only for a moment. When his hand found one of those swirly, furry tails he fastened on tight before the two of them rushed into the belly of the smoggy beast. The smoke cloud was dense and thick, having already flooded through the open door like a black ocean. Lucian’s lungs were ablaze. He coughed relentlessly as they sprinted down the haze-infested corridor.

Alabaster: _Stairs, human. Watch your step._

The Ninetails was patient, allowing Lucian to take them one at a time. Winding down the spiral staircase, Lucian savored every second like it was going to be his last.

Upon reaching solid ground, they scampered towards the front door. Inhaling death, Lucian’s desperate hands searched for the cold, metal latch. Once he found it and unfastened it, the two of them, together, lunged through the exit into the fresh open air.


	4. Where We Go The Sun Follows

Lucian wasn't sure how long he lied there in the soggy, muddy grass, his body heaving, the fire in his lungs doused yet cooked medium to well. But it wasn't that long. For some reason the Ninetails was growling. Gasping for every ounce of precious, cool clean oxygen, Lucian glanced up.

“You've got to be…fucking kidding me,” he said hoarsely. Sitting all the way down at the bottom of the driveway, where his mother’s property ended and the asphalted path morphed into a circular cul-de-sac street, there was a square dark shape. It was a full-sized black minivan. Standing in front of the vehicle were three smaller dark shapes. They were men dressed in black.

The van was parked at the edge of the drive about two-hundred yards away. Then and there, those three smaller black shapes in front began to approach.  

“Ninetails,” Lucian croaked. “What about the others? We need to go back and–”

At that very moment, along with a tidal wave of black smog Albina and Einstein ambled out the front door. The former rushed towards him.

“Lucian!” She knelt down beside him. “Hey, talk to me! You alright?”

Coughing, he pointed towards the driveway. Albina followed his finger. She was wearing her bug-eyed sunglasses again.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he managed.

“Can you stand?”

Lucian immediately scrambled to his feet. After letting loose several subdued coughs, he shrugged. “Does that answer your question?”

She shook her head. “Very funny.”

Lucian looked the blonde girl over, head to toe. Somehow, she appeared to be alright, too. He felt compelled to ask anyways.

“How about you? Can you breathe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Einstein is too. We’re good…really!”

Only then did Lucian realize how worried he must have looked. Inhaling then exhaling deeply, a hand hugging his heaving Adam’s apple, the young man glanced around worriedly. Koga was nowhere in sight. Clearing his throat, he said, “What happened to our ninja-friend?”

“The coward got away. He used Smokescreen as a diversion then fled.”  

“Wow, really? I thought…never mind.” Lucian coughed again. “…We've got to find him. He knows something about my mother. Or at least… he knows someone who does.” 

Albina nodded. “Let’s see if he regrouped with those grunts.” The three dark shapes, grunts she said, were taking their sweet time moving up the level asphalt path. Lucian could see them clearly now. They donned round hats and long trench coats, both black. He hypothesized that they were Koga’s backup, just in case things went awry. Which they had.

Like two fearless Braviarys, Albina and Einstein began striding down the driveway to meet them. The Ninetails, however, stayed by Lucian’s side, who only began to tag along after exuding a succession of painful coughs.   

Sabrina owned a secluded manor at the edge of Saffron City. It was a modest estate, four acres populated with elegant trees and foliage. There was a large fountain in the front yard and a composite tennis court a short ways to the east. There were a few neighbors in the vicinity. Not the immediate vicinity, however. In truth, even stepping outside of his house Lucian was usually all alone. If it wasn't for the deluge of visitors that morning, the private property would be barren.

Lucian considered whipping out his Holo Caster and calling the Police; the real ones. So he did.

“Hey,” Albina said, whirling around and striding towards him. “What are you doing?”

“Relax, I’m dialing 911.”

“Don’t do that!” She placed a hand on his. “We can take these morons.”

She sounded confident as fuck. Despite her diminutive stature, she looked it too. Lucian glowered past her and then returned to those tinted sunglasses. “If you say so,” he agreed, stuffing it back in his pants pocket.

Both parties marched on, edging closer to the other, all eyes pointing straight ahead. Lucian was very much aware that their confrontation would likely result in a Pokémon standoff. There were the three men dressed in thuggish trench coats. But there were also the three of them, Albina, Einstein, and himself. Plus the Ninetails. Albina had her own Pokémon, and eight Kanto Gym Badges to boot. Einstein had to have Pokémon too. Koga was nowhere in sight.

As they trekked down the driveway, Lucian stifled a few coughs then shivered as he reminisced.

_What the hell happened back there, inside? What was that shape? That mountain in my room?_

The two opposing parties halted twenty yards away from each other. Neither seemed willing to exchange an amicable greeting complete with hands hangs and/or fist bumps.   

Albina was the first to speak. “Where’s Koga?” she said. There was such a soft, delicate quality to her voice that Lucian suspected they hadn't heard.   

“Looks like him,” he heard the thug in the middle grumble. This guy was rather tall, with an impressive paunch that could function as a squishy pillow for a lucky lady...if she was in to that kind of thing.  

“That’s him alright,” the one with spectacles affirmed. “The man in red attire, with the purple hair. That’s Sabrina’s son.”

“He looks kinda feminine,” said the skinniest of the three.

The thug with the glasses frowned. “It’s effeminate.”

“My bad dude, I didn't know.”

Lucian felt borderline pissed. Not about their insulting his hair, but the fact that they weren't answering. “Hey fuck-for-brains!” he said, his voice not fully restored but vigorous all the same. That got there attention. Lucian resumed. “Show some respect! This lady asked you a question. Where the flying fuck is Koga?”

The three men exchanged bemused glances. “He was supposed to bring you over here,” the tall tubby one in the middle admitted, shaking his head.

“Where the hell is he?” said the lankiest of the three, crinkling his big nose.

“Don’t look at me! I haven’t a clue.”

“What do you think that sound was inside? It was kinda…spooky.”

“Don't forget about the smoke. They must’ve beat em’ with that Ninetails or something”

“That’s crazy. No way Koga could lose to these brats.”

“Look at that Ninetails dude. It looks pretty strong.”

The one with the glasses pushed them up farther on his face. “Koga can worry about himself, gentleman. We have our own obligations. The Ninetails won’t be a problem for us, not in the storm.”

“Oh yeah!”

“Plus, by the looks of it, they've only got one other Pokémon.”

“An astute observation!”

Simultaneously, they chucked three Pokéballs about five yards out in front of them. There were three flashes of brilliant lights which, when extinguished, revealed three Pokémon. Avoiding their eyes, Lucian managed to identify them quickly enough. In order from left to right: Mightyena, Quagsire, and Weavile.

Cupping his hands against his mouth to augment his voice, the shady man wearing glasses shouted, “What about a little three-on-two?”

“Three-on-two,” Lucian repeated. He gave Albina’s petite body an objective scan. Hanging from the belt around her waist there was only a single Pokéball. Previously, she stated that Alabaster wasn't hers. Did that really mean she had just one Pokémon?

“Lucian?” Albina said, staring him down from behind the tint of her sunglasses. 

“Yeah?”

“You still have Alabaster’s Pokéball?”

On impulse, when the Wheezing used its Smokescreen Lucian had crammed the device in his pants pocket.

“Yeah, it’s right here,” he said, yanking the spherical device out and holding it up for her to see.

She extended her hand. “Give it to me. I’ll take care of these morons.”

Lucian hesitated. It’s not that he wanted to enter the fray alongside her. No, he was convinced he might have to. “Albina, do you only have one other Pokémon?”

“That is accurate, yes.”

He turned to Einstein, who had fitted his black suit back on over his ripped torso and was currently adjusting the collar and lapels. “What about him?” Lucian asked. “You? Big guy? What types do you have?” He reached for the black bag sitting on the ground at the meathead’s big feet. There had to be Pokéballs stashed in there. As soon as Lucian reached for it though, Einstein reacted immediately, snatching it up and hugging it against his chest like it was filled with a billion Pokémon Dollars and he was unwilling to share even an iota of the loot. 

“Einstein doesn't have any Pokémon,” Albina stated flatly.

Lucian’s hands flew to his face. Jerking his purple hair down hard against his cheeks he said, “Pardon the French but are you fucking serious? He’s exactly like…like me?”

“Not exactly. Just give me the Pokéball. Please, Lucian.”

Sighing, he did as she asked, thrusting it in her open palm.

“Thank you.”

Lucian’s frustrated eyes carefully skimmed their three opponents. Hers, considering she was going to do this solo. On the left, a Mightyena, on the far right, a Weavile, and in the middle, a Quagsire. Apparently, it was going to be the three of them pitted against the Ninetails and whatever else Albina had with her.

 _One Pokémon_ , he thought _. The Ninetails doesn’t even belong to her, so she’s just got one. It doesn’t make any sense for someone of her evident skill. Maybe it’s a Dragon-type or something, though. Like a Salamence or a Dragonite._ It struck him suddenly that she must have used her other Pokémon in his fight with Koga. “Their” fight actually, considering she had intervened. With the Weezing’s smokescreen, he couldn't discern much of what was happening with his eyes. His ears told an entirely different story. Whatever the hell that roar was, it came from something very big and very capable.

He turned to Albina.   

“Two Dark type Pokémon and one of the Water variant. Ninetails is going to need some serious help. Better call out that second Pokémon you've got and take them up on their challenge. Two-on-three!”

Albina shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”

Lucian would have laughed if not for the stern expression on her face. She wasn't joking.

“Don’t be brash. It’s already a handicapped match with only two. By himself, Ninetails won’t last long against the three of them. You see that Quagsire? It’s a tank, a tank that shoots water, cold, wet water. And those attacks will be even stronger because of the rain…” It occurred to Lucian quite suddenly that not a single drop of precipitation had grazed his face. Was there a lull in the storm? He looked up and what he saw he could not explain. Not only was there not a single cloud in the sky. A blistering white sun was there instead, hanging high overhead as if it were the middle of the fucking day.

“Remember what I told you?” Albina said. “Where we go, the sun follows.”

Though careful, Lucian’s gaze glazed over the Ninetails. The golden-white Pokémon looked calm and proud as he sat upright on all fours, those nine tails swaying gracefully behind him.

Lucian remembered what Albina said, but it never crossed his mind until then that she had been referring to Alabaster. Even fresher in his mind were those eight Gym Badges she had. If his mother were here, Lucian was positive she could pick these thugs apart. Albina had conquered his mother’s Gym, the badge proved it. She knew what she was doing, she had to.

The golden-white fox trotted forward, his nine tails shifting behind him as he moved into battling position. With a genuine grin on his face, Lucian shined his Light that way.

 _Good luck, Alabaster_ , he whispered. The Ninetails reacted as if Lucian had yanked one of his tails. His neck craned as his elegantly muzzled face lurched back in Lucian’s direction. This time, the young man didn't look away. Not exactly. Instead, he covered his view – his purple sunglasses – with a forearm all the while holding his grin.

Alabaster: _Thank you, human_.

Lucian gave Albina space to work, ambling over towards Einstein who was busy fumbling with his pink tie. The strap to that big black bag was hanging around a broad shoulder, the rest nestled securely at his hip.

“She’s got this,” Lucian said standing beside him, “right Einstein?” 

Thick fingers stopped their knotting as the meathead’s bald head creaked in Lucian’s direction. Einstein had those tinted shades on his face again. For a moment, Lucian wondered what color his eyes were, having never seen them before he was curious. That flawlessly sculpted man-pretty face though, there was something about the architecture that Lucian swore he recognized; he just could not for the life of him recognize what that was exactly.     

“Well,” Lucian said, hoping his making conversation with an individual who could not easily answer was not rude or petty or awkward. “You've known her a pretty long time, right? She’s a decent Trainer?”

Einstein pointed to the blonde Ace Trainer in the school uniform. Then, he threw up a chubby finger and wobbled it around. Lucian wasn't sure he understood. “Wait?” he said, rubbing his neck. “Is that what you mean? You want me to wait?” Einstein shook his man-pretty head before pointing to her again.

Then, again, he held up his index finger.

“One?” Lucian said. “Ah, I think I get it. She’s number one?”

The meathead pumped his meaty fist.

Lucian looked on with anxious anticipation.“I hope you’re right, Einstein. I really do.”    

The three thugs in black hats and trench coats looked as if victory was assured. Two of them sported brazen smiles. The other guy, the one wearing glasses, appeared to be in deep concentration as he picked at the stubble on his chin.

“Just the Ninetails? I think the dumb broad’s serious.” 

“More like crazy. One on three, we can’t lose!”

“Favorable odds indeed, gentleman.”  

They began barking orders discriminately, one after the other. Subsequently, the three opposing Pokémon rushed forward in unison, the Quagsire in the middle, hanging back slightly while the other two Dark types led the way. Then, at rather spontaneous juncture, one broke off from the pack. It was the Mightyena. It was closing in at full speed, a black blur until it was right on Alabaster’s doorstep, its eyes blood red, its massive jaws open wide as its innate Intimidation ability kicked in.

It immediately began sparring with the little fox, swiping savagely with jagged paws, its mangy black and silver mangle the antithesis of its opponent’s golden-white coat. Lucian feared for Alabaster's life. His opponent was twice his size, with a broader skeletal structure and thicker muscle tone. Worst of all, its graveled snarl was far more menacing than anything the Ninetails’ throat could ever hope to produce.  

And yet, the fox Pokémon was holding his own. Extremely agile, his movements were almost too fast for a human set of eyes to follow. Dodging his opponent’s heavy strikes and blocking with his little paws on occasion, Alabaster didn't seem the least bit intimidated.  

The Mightyena seemed to be surprised their duel had lasted as long as it had. It thrashed about, slashing incessantly in exchange for less coordinated attacks. A miss. Miss. Miss. Followed by another miss. The more it struck nothing but air, the more jarring and desperate subsequent strikes became. Suddenly, with two powerful rear-legs it lunged forward with snapping jaws, an attack impossible for the Ninetails to avoid.

Alabaster’s reaction was prompt. Whirling around ninety-degrees, he whacked the Mightyena’s muzzle with tentacle-like tails that sent the Dark type reeling away in a stupor.

“Weavile, charge! Attack with Furry Strikes!”

At his bespectacled master’s command, the Weavile entered the skirmish, swiping with its protracted claws. The Ninetails recoiled, adapting masterfully to the dual threat, eluding their onslaught as if they were moving in slow-motion.

The Mightyena returned with a vengeance, drooling and howling as it lashed even more ferociously than before. His Dark teammate was on the offensive as well. The duo swung and swerved as the Ninetails danced around them both.

In its lust for battle, the Mightyena had expended all of its energy too fast. Its second wind lasted for a bare minute before it had to take another breather, making the duel a one-on-one. It was the Weavile versus the Ninetails, and thus far Alabaster was outlasting its barrage with ease.

Then, disaster.

From far away, Lucian heard the fat man in the middle shout, “Water Gun!”

Deception. That had been their plan all along. Like a river swimming through the air, an enormous jet of liquid whooshed towards the golden-furred Pokémon.

Lucian tried to warn him through a whisper.  

 _Watch out_!

It was too late. It didn't even look like Alabaster was even remotely aware of his impending doom. Gallons of water plowed forward before crashing into him, drenching his silky golden-white coat and likely Fainting him instantly as well.

“Direct hit,” the fat man in the middle exclaimed!   

“Excellent teamwork, gentleman!”

And yet, the little fox was still standing.

“For fuck’s sake Mightyena,” the skinny thug cried, “Go! Finish it off you lazy bum!”

With weary fervor, the Mightyena took to the air, propelling itself open jaws-first.

Alabaster took flight as well, vaulting up higher, over the mangy Dark Pokémon. In midair, the fox whiplashed his opponent across the back of the head with all nine of his long, wiry tails.

While the Ninetails landed on the asphalt with light feet, the Mightyena plopped down chin-first. Lying motionless on the ground, its pink tongue hung limply out of its mouth.

Weavile simply gaped at his fallen comrade. Alone, it hesitated to continue, its dark red eyes wide with alarm. 

“Idiotic Pokémon!” the man with glasses bellowed. “What are you waiting for? Go! Finish Ninetails off! Charge!”

Albina’s light voice chimed. “Unleash your pain, Alabaster. Flamethrower!”

At its master’s orders, the Weavile scuttled directly into the scorching crimson flames. For the part Ice-type, it was a super effective Attack that Fainted it instantly. As it lied motionless on the asphalt, its little gray body exuded streaks of steam that sizzled loudly.   

“Can you imagine if I used my other Pokémon?” Albina said, a blue vein bulging across her forehead, her countenance one of pure adrenaline. “It’s not even fair now!”

“How is this happening dude?” the skinny grunt cried, his hands clutching the hat on his head.

“I don’t know!” the tubby one in the middle called. “My Water Gun didn't miss. I saw it hit! I know I did!”

“Relax, idiots,” the one with glasses said scornfully. “It’s a Fire type. Just attack it with another Water Attack. It’s likely almost dead. Kill it, kill it now!”

“Kill.” Albina’s voice was soft, yet distinct. “You _rotten_ humans. So barbaric. Arrogant, too. You were so focused on your superior numbers and type advantage that you failed to take into account the elements.”

The man with glasses pushed his spectacles up higher on the bridge of his nose. “What are you bloviating about? It’s raining.” 

“Look up moron. The sunlight has been harsh this entire time.”

They glanced up and then, shielding their eyes stared with open mouths.

“What happened to the storm?”

“It was pouring minutes ago dude!”

“I didn’t see the Ninetails use Sunny Day...” 

“Don’t look too long,” Albina warned. “Alabaster’s Drought might fry what little brain cells you have left.”

The grunt with glasses grunted angrily. “What’s your point?”

“The battle’s over. All of your Water Attacks are useless. This is a waste of time.”   

“Quagsire is Water _and_ Ground,” he shouted, stomping on the ground with a bout of fury. “The battle isn’t over yet. Nothing you do will leave a scratch on it, either. So technically, it’s more of a draw. Except you made a mistake. Insulting our intelligence yet you underestimated what we were capable of…” He turned to his partner, the tubby thug in the middle. “Order it to use Earthquake!”

“Don’t do that,” Albina said. “It’s typing spells double the trouble for you fools.” 

“Fools!” The man with glasses was steaming. Literally, he was really sweaty, a combination of the blistering white sun overheard and his theatrics. “Don’t let that blonde bitch insult us. Do it! Do it now! There's nothing she can do to stop it!”

The fat man looked anxious. “Okay, but, get back you guys! Quagsire–” He started lurching away. The other’s moved in unison, reeling towards the van. “–Use…Earthquake!”

“End this ruse, Alabaster,” Albina uttered, shaking her head. “Focus your pain, your hatred. Let your rage surge into a Solarbeam!”

The Ninetails looked back and nodded in understanding. When that happened, Lucian’s violet eyes had to dart away. Merely glancing in the fox Pokémon's direction caused a throbbing pain to brew inside his skull. It was almost unbearable. 

The ground never even began to shake. The Ninetails was far faster than the Quagsire could ever hope to be. If the sunlight was blinding before, the air thick and sultry, nothing could compare to that white ray of incandescence which seemed to derive from the sun itself.

When the Solarbeam struck the Quagsire, obliterating it instantaneously, Lucian couldn't help from feeling sorry for the opposing Pokémon. It was likely innocent in all this. He was thankful, however, that he had not made eye-contact. Otherwise, he feared he might have shared the agony it endured.

“Inconceivable,” the grunt with glasses cried. “Solarbeam has to charge…where did it even–”

“–Let’s get out of here!” the tubby one screamed, losing his hat in the process. He didn't bother to pick it back up. Scrambling, the three thugs directed to Lucian curt, half-angry-half-frightened glances as they returned their Fainted Pokémon and scrambled into the van. Einstein made a move towards them, but as he passed Albina she grabbed him around the arm.

“Manners love,” she said, tugging him back and shaking her blonde head. “We have a guest.”

There was the screeching of the automobile ignition, and the van sped off through the cul-de-sac before flying farther up the road and out of sight. 

Albina turned to Lucian, who was speechless.

“What’s with that look?” she said.

Lucian snapped out of his shock by flashing his teeth. “Holy Miltank that was… incredible. You’re incredible, Albina.”

“Thanks,” she said amidst a shrug.   

“No – thank you!” Lucian exclaimed. “I’m not an idiot. That guy in the mask…Koga. I still can’t wrap my head around this…I mean talk about collusion. You know, if it wasn't for your knocking on my door before dawn who knows where’d I’d be.”

“Don’t mention it, Lucian. Really. I told you, Einstein and I are interregional investigators. We’re happy to help. It’s why we’re here.” She grinned, her white teeth such a lovely contrast against the hue of her polished bronze skin. At long last, Lucian knew for sure that he could trust them.

 “I still can’t believe Koga got away,” he said, glancing down and kicking a rock. It scudded off into the dense foliage bordering the driveway. In that moment, Lucian’s curiosity nearly got the best of him. He wanted to ask Albina more about Koga. Specifically, why she and Einstein were so incensed while confronting him? Alabaster had _whispered_ that the two of them had history with the Ninja Master. However, the fox Pokémon refused to go into any details. Only by Lucian’s not wanting to pry did he manage to suppress his curiosity. Instead, he phrased a different query as innocuously as he could.  

“This feels like a shot in the dark,” he said, “in fact I feel crazy just thinking it, but should I assume that Koga and those three thugs were members of…you know…Team Rocket? Or Team Plasma?”  

Albina ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Maybe it is crazy. Either way, it’s the truth. You saw Koga with your own eyes. The Ninja Master and those grunts were here to kidnap you, Lucian, and it doesn't take a genius to recognize they’re the ones behind the other kidnappings. At whose behest? Who knows? And why? Your guess is as good as mine. I will tell you this: the Ninja Master Koga has been an on-again off-again agent of Team Rocket for a half century.”

Lucian was no longer skeptical. He knew her to be telling the truth.

“You cited collusion,” she said, folding her arms. “His treachery is just the tip of the ice burg. Koga isn’t the only one…” Out of nowhere, Albina shot him with a dazzling rosy-lipped grin. “Hey! By the way, you were great back there.” 

Lucian began blushing profusely. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think, you silly Zangoose? You showed some serious backbone just now. Cursing out those grunts. And before that! You won your very first Pokémon battle – against a member of the Elite Four, too. Koga underestimated you. But I knew what you were capable of.”

With such a barrage of compliments, Lucian could only shake his head sheepishly. “I only won by technicality,” he finally hooted, rubbing his neck. “You’re the one who scared him off. Besides, before that I didn't do much.” In the corner of his eye, he noticed that the Ninetails had assumed a sedentary position beside him, his nine tails waving around rather pleasantly. One of them kept nicking Lucian’s leg.

“The Ninetails…Alabaster here, deserves most, if not all the credit. Trust me, he didn't even need me back there.”

Two hands shot out and grasped Lucian around the shoulders. Albina’s long fingernails were prickly. “I know what I saw,” she said, her bug-eyed face below his own. “You were a natural, Lucian, which isn't surprising considering your blood. If you were a Pokémon trainer, you could ascend into a Master. Perhaps one of the greatest of all time.”

Lucian’s heart skipped a beat. Several actually. “What are you implying?” he said, blushing and laughing uneasily again. He could smell Albina’s breath, practically taste it too. Sweet strawberries.  

“What do you think?” she said through a grin.

Lucian’s eyebrows shot up so high he thought they grazed his scalp. “Oh, no,” he said, bowing his head. “No, no, no! I know what you’re saying, but I can’t! I just can’t, okay? I tried it once, and I failed. I appreciate your help, Albina, I really do. But training Pokémon is just…it’s not something I’m capable of doing.” Within the deepest recesses of Lucian’s mind, memories of the Pokémon he met long ago surfaced to the top. It was the one with the big, orange eyes. There were tears in those orange eyes. She was crying. Why was she crying? 

“You don’t have a choice,” Albina said, summoning Lucian back to reality. “If you want to find you mother, and find _Red_ , you’re going to need help.”

His head snapped up. “ _Red_! What’s _he_ got to do with any of this?”

As she unclasped him from around the shoulders, Albina simply smiled. “I still can’t believe Red, _the Red_ , is your father.”

By blood, she wasn't just likening him to just his mother Sabrina, the Mistress of Psychic Pokemon. She was equating him to his father. _Red_. She saw the painting on the wall, saw that minus the purple hair and the violet eyes, he was the spitting image of that jerk. She figured out the truth. “Yeah, most people don’t know,” he admitted, his violet eyes folding away. “It’s not common knowledge. Father left us, my mom and me, when I was very young. I hardly remember him. But like I said before, I’m nothing like him. And I don’t want to be.”

“A shame you don’t remember,” Albina said. She removed her sunglasses, unveiling those scarlet eyes. Polishing the tinted rims with the fabric of her bodice, she continued. “Your father, Red, he was a good man.”

Anger swelled inside him when she said. Gritting his teeth, it took every bit of Lucian’s physiological strength to hold back. What the fuck did she know about his failure of a father?

Satisfied, Albina placed her sunglasses back over her face. “Come on, my friends. You too, new friend. Let’s go.”           

At her direction, they started walking down the long, desolate black driveway. Einstein stuck next to her. Lucian followed behind the two of them. And as for Alabaster, out of the three humans, Lucian became very much aware of the notion that the Ninetails seemed to be tagging alongside him.

Inundating’s Lucian mind was a myriad of Light, half of them questions. _How could Albina possibly know anything about my father? And where did Koga go? Why did those guys want to kidnap me? Is mother alright or at least going to be? Do I actually have friends? Does Albina like me? Where the flippidty-fuck are we going? Am I a bender? If my illness isn’t connected to my Psychic powers, aka the Light, then what is it? Maybe I should whisper to Alabaster and ask him…?_

At that moment, he realized his mother’s driveway was no longer beneath his feet. Ambling up the road, they had already made it to the middle of the cul-de-sac. This wasn't his mother’s private property anymore. This was…public fucking property.  

He was in uncharted territory, literally. Deep inside his heart, he had to admit, he was relishing this fascinating quandary he found himself in.

 _I just have to be patient_ , he reminded himself. _And prudent._  

At the forefront of his cognition were two nagging ideas. Things Lucian could not shake away.

1) Under no circumstances was he going to train Pokémon. If his mother couldn't cure him over the course of nineteen long years, there was no way Albina would come close.   

2) When he stared into the Drapion’s eyes, Lucian remembered going through them, inside them. He was a bender. Lucian was sure of it, he had infiltrated the Ninetails’ mind twice, both accidents but at least there was no pain associated with either incident. All he had gleaned were words, thoughts floating on the surface, pieces of Light. So why did he feel such excruciating agony whenever he met the fox’s eyes, those burning, crimson cinders? And as for the Drapion, when examining that bizarre orange bonfire, what were those voices he heard? They seemed so very familiar.   

“Lucian?” the woman with long blonde hair said, not looking back.

“What’s up, Albina?”

She stopped abruptly before twirling around to face him. When she came to a halt, so did everyone else. “Could you remain here for a few moments, please?”

“Certainly,” Lucian answered impulsively, nodding. “Uh, where are you going?”  

Reaching into his black bag, Einstein plucked a square red device. It was a Holo Caster. He gave it to the blonde, who then told the young man, “I need to excuse myself for just a few minutes to return a call.”

"Ah, okay makes sense." Lucian nodded again. He didn't want to pry, but this time he couldn't help from probing just a little. “From whom?” he tried to say as neutrally as possible. The Police perhaps, or her investigative agency?

“It’s my sister,” Albina explained. “I missed her call earlier and I really need to get back in touch. Einstein and I won’t be gone long, I promise. Alabaster will keep you company. We’ll be right back! Don't go anywhere, stay right here!” When she grinned, Lucian grinned back.

 _Family_ , Lucian thought. It reminded him of his mother. 

She turned back around and started fast-walking up the road. The meathead went with her, keeping pace by her side.

Planting his ass cheeks on the curb of the sidewalk, Lucian waited for the two of them to return. The Ninetails lied on a bed of grass a short distance away, his rubies fastened shut. Lucian considered shining his Light upon him and _whispering_ , but the Pokémon looked exhausted from participating in not one but two battles. Lucian didn’t want to disturb him.     

He turned his attention up the paved path towards Albina and Einstein, who continued treading up the empty road. Lucian could understand Albina wanting privacy. Still, he couldn't help from wondering, _Why, exactly_?


	5. The Shiny Sisters

As the woman with blonde hair and bronzed, twinkling skin strode up the neighborhood street, she began to cry. No longer could she hold back the tears, nor did she want to.

Only when Albina was sure that she was far enough away from curious ears, from the human's, completely and utterly out of Lucian's range of hearing, did she allow herself to sob. It was erratic, pathetic too, but Albina couldn't care less. Soon, more than just a morsel of mirth began to escape her lungs, as well.

"HEHE-HEHE-HEHE-HEHE-HEEE! We got him my, love! We finally got him!"

She grabbed Einstein by the hand and squeezed tightly. His giant paw squeezed back, very gently.

Deep within the black bag secured around his broad shoulder, there was a Pokéball with Koga's name on it. Even now, Albina could feel the human's pain; his miserable solitude trapped inside, crying out in unadulterated anguish and despair, all to no avail. Tasting his pain was almost sensuous for her, nearly as savory as Einstein fucking her with his big, fat cock.

The Ninja Master was their third high-profile abduction.

First there was Blaine, a former Gym Leader. He was a former member of Team Rocket, too.

Then there was Lieutenant Surge, a Gym Leader as well as a former member of Team Rocket.

And now, while searching for Sabrina, a Gym Leader and potential recurrent member of Team Rocket, they stumbled instead upon Koga. The Ninja Master was no doubt working for the devilish organization once again. Albina would learn more about his involvement soon enough, during their interrogation.

The vanishings, at least those in Kanto, all started approximately one month ago, when the three of them, Albina, Einstein, and a very vengeful Ninetails found Blaine. He was the first underhanded Rocket they "caught," the longstanding concierge of the Big Riddle Inn down on Cinnabar Island.

The Big Riddle Inn. That rotten place Albina would never forget.

For some, it served as a friendly lodge; a place on an island where Trainers and travelers alike could rest and sleep and eat and drink. A vacation spot.

For others, it offered a different kind of retreat. For affluent Poképhiles and Poké-pedophiles, it had been the finest fucking resort in all six regions; a luxurious villa on a remote island where humans could fuck young Pokémon sex slaves, only the most insatiable and lascivious of all Pokémon, to their heart's content.

But for a chosen few, those enslaved Pokémon, The Big Riddle Inn was hell on Earth.

It was a discreet operation. It had to be. Pokémon Sex Trafficking was illegal. Legality, or lack thereof, did little to curb the human spirit, however. In fact, for some, something branded as taboo was all the more ravishing and delectable. Living an otherwise normal lifestyle, certain men and women selected verboten sex with you and even adolescent Pokémon as their niche.

Team Rocket was the premier benefactor, of course. If something could be exploited for profit, one could be sure that humans would find it and take advantage. Pokémon was a goldmine of opportunity. And for Team Rocket, Pokémon was their specialty. There oath, their motto: "Steal Pokémon for profit. Exploit Pokémon for profit. All Pokémon exist for the glory of Team Rocket."

Pokémon sex trafficking just so happened to be their most lucrative operation, even more so than the Pokémon arms trade. And their most profitable location had been on the topmost floor of Blaine's famous establishment on Cinnabar Island, in the lavish hotel suite. But it wasn't just the exuberant accommodations and isolated locale that grew the preeminent reputation and drew the voracious crowds. It was the Pokémon. Crudely put, the unique clientele, with their unique cravings and unique libidos, loved the unique items on the menu.

A Mr. Mime, Jynx, and Ditto were the eldest ones that had been there. Everyone loved to fuck that compliant little Ditto, it could transform into just about anything, Pokémon and human-alike. Best of all, its genitalia could change into whatever was desired, xx, xy, xx + xy, the possibilities weren't endless but they were expansive and elaborate all the same. Its name, or his name for he preferred being a male, was Einstein.

Of course for many clients, the younger the Pokémon, the better.

There was a Riolu named Faith, a Machop, Makuhita, a Gothorita named Cassie, a Timburr, a Larvitar named Wrath, a Mienfoo, a Goomy named Gooey, a Chimchar, and a Pawniard by the name of Bishop. An Eevee, Lopunny, Skitty, Mareep, Cinccino, Emolga, and Cubchoo were there was well.

But by far, the most popular  _attractions_  the Rockets' had to offer were their two prized, female  _Shinies_.

There was the gorgeous, petite belle of the ball, a  _Shiny_  Kirlia. She had shoulder-length sapphire hair and big, round, soft orange eyes. Her name was Desiree.

They also boasted a highly arousing, unbelievably rare  _Shiny_  human of all things. She was a little girl with long, snow-white hair, snow-white skin, and bright red eyes. Her name was Albina.

The price for a special session with any of these delicacies, especially the latter two  _Shinies_ , would put a dent in any wallet, but enough rotten humans were more than willing to pay that price, any price, for the exquisite experience many times over. If one enjoyed a high enough ranking in Team Rocket, sex with these young Pokémon came free of charge.

Blaine didn't know everything. But the rotten human knew enough. He could have stepped in, stopped it, put an end to the operation years ago, but the clients, those men, many of them regulars had become his good friends. Instead, his inaction prolonged other's suffering. Overlooking the truth helped him sleep soundly at night. Money was also a significant factor. The Rockets made sure to line his pockets with cash to keep his lips sealed and eyes shut.

"Every man has his price," a certain someone once told Albina's father. Albina would never, ever forget those five words.

Blaine was the owner of The Big Riddle Inn. Albina and Einstein's literal hell on Earth. But the Ninetails, Alabaster, reviled Blaine even more than they did. That's why, about one month ago, the trio agreed to "catch" him first. In all the excitement, they also not so accidentally burned the entire building, The Big Riddle Inn, down to the ground. Twenty-eight people met their ends that night, most of them but not all in that fire. Some they found and, in their bloodlust, incinerated shortly afterwards. The three of them made sure only Rocket members and patrons, bad men and women, rotten humans, perished. No one else was harmed.

As for Blaine, the rotten old innkeeper was alive and well, or at least as well as one could be rotting away in a Pokéball.

In hindsight, burning down the Big Riddle Inn may have elicited a bit of unwanted attention. That's why the trio waited so dreadfully long, about four weeks, to pursue their next high-profile target.

Lieutenant Surge was the second Rocket they "caught."

In his younger years, Surge was a soldier; a Lieutenant in an army. Rotten humans were always at war amongst themselves. In their arrogance, they used Pokémon to do most of their fighting for them. War did terrible things to the body and worse things to the mind, the  _Light_ , as well as the soul, the  _Dark_.

In this regard, humans were no different than Pokémon.

Surge was formerly a military officer. In his first life, he was a man taking orders from another man who sometimes commanded him to kill.

Later, Surge became a criminal. In his second life, he harkened to the underworld, where he took orders from a different yet comparable sort of man, one who ordered him to steal from others, hurt others, and sometimes kill. That man was a crime boss named Giovanni.

Surge's criminal escapades could be explained quite easily. He did it for the money.

"Every man has his price," a certain someone once told Albina's father. Those five words were carved into her soul.

Surge had always been a heavy drinker. Alcohol numbed his mind, easing mounting stress, making him forget about his struggles along with some of the misery and pain.

But it wasn't enough to bring back his fallen friends, brothers and sisters, humans and Pokémon, cherished lives the war had claimed long ago.

Giovanni suggested he go and check out a hotel on Cinnabar Island. The Big Riddle Inn. His Boss told him a little secret, about all the forbidden pleasures that were awaiting him at the top floor in the hotel suite. There were erotic young Pokémon up there who could suck all the misery and pain right away.

For a time, Lieutenant Surge had a penchant for two particular sex slaves. Two  _Shiny_  little girls. A  _Shiny_  human named Albina. And a  _Shiny_  Kirlia by the name of Desiree.

Years later, Surge changed. The Lieutenant still drank to forget his misery and pain. As a matter of fact, he drank more than ever to help him cope with the guilt, for all the misery and pain he had inflicted upon two innocent little girls.

Alas, he had washed his hands of Team Rocket. He became a new man, a better one living a third life. In Vermillion City, he even garnered a respectable reputation as a Gym Leader, the Lightning American. But that did not excuse his past grievances. The rotten human could wash his hands of filth, but he could never wash away the past. His past.

Their past. Their pain.

Two days ago, Albina had found him at a bar in Vermillion City. The celebrity American spotted the attractive young woman and they hit it off immediately. He bought her a few drinks and threw more than a fair share of compliments her way. She even flirted back with him. She was a superb actress, Albina, and an even better con artist. Surge didn't recognize her, of course. Albina had her sunglasses on. That and she looked very  _different_  than she used to, during the man's second life, when he made frequent appointments with a Shiny sapphire Kirlia and a Shiny human girl with snowy-white hair and skin at The Big Riddle Inn.

It was getting late that night at the bar. After a very pleasant evening of wine, jokes, and nonstop flirting, the Lieutenant gave the girl his number and insisted on buying her a cab to drive her home. Albina was obliged. When the cab came, the attractive young woman suggested they go to his house, instead.

When they got there, Surge was more than a little surprised to find the girl was an old  _friend_. He was awfully shocked to find she was not alone. And he was absolutely horrified when Einstein the Ditto transformed into a monster. That monster then proceeded to show Surge the true meaning of pain. Oh, just thinking about what her beloved  _did_  to him… It brought a smile to Albina's face.

They could not have had a more perfect reunion.

Now, the rotten Lieutenant spent his days forever sober, rotting away in a Pokéball.

In more contemporary times, this morning in fact, Albina, Einstein, and a very vengeful Ninetails had agreed it was time to "capture" Sabrina, The Mistress of Psychic Pokémon. Vermillion City was just south of Saffron City. They wanted to act fast, in case the Rockets had realized their organization was being targeted and thus began warning their members, even former members.

Things didn't go quite as Albina planned. No, things turned out much better than she could ever have hoped for.

Albina knew Koga was going to be the most difficult of the four Rocket Gym Leaders to "capture." Although he was a public figure, now a member of the Indigo Elite Four no less, outside of his professional life Koga was a very private and guarded man. Finding the Ninja Master was going to be difficult. It should have been difficult.

That is, until the fool decided to pay a certain household a visit at, for him, the most inopportune time imaginable.

At last, that rotten human was paying for his sins. For he was the catalyst to all of the sickening abuse Albina had received when she was just a little girl. Koga was the reason she was a slave to the carnal cravings of vile men for nine years. Molested, raped, and tormented for nine long years at The Big Riddle Inn.

"Every man has his price," a certain someone once told Albina's father. That certain someone was Koga, an agent of Team Rocket. Albina would never forget the Sunday morning her father pawned his own daughter, a  _Shiny_  nine-year-old child, for 1 Billion Pokémon Dollars.

Nor would she forget the stream of tears flowing down her mother's cheeks as she hugged her only daughter goodbye. They were tears of joy. Her euphoric mommy and daddy had just become billionaires. As for Albina, Koga was the one who escorted her to Cinnabar Island, where she was taken to begin life anew at The Big Riddle Inn.

That exchange wasn't the only reason Albina loathed the Ninja Master. The former Gym Leader and current member of the Elite Four was also the reason her beloved little Einstein spent over thirty years in sexual servitude. Thirty long years at The Big Riddle Inn.

The  _Shiny_  humanoid Albina glanced around behind her. Far down the street, Alabaster and their newest friend, Lucian, were tiny specs. She looked all-around, examining the more immediate surroundings. There was a sprawling house a ways to the left, but no one was in sight. Up ahead on the right, a large oak tree stood erect. She and Einstein continued on a little bit farther up the paved path before forking east, where they stopped on a small hill under the branches of that tree. Ahead of them, about three miles away, lied the interior of Saffron City. Towering over all the other buildings in that urban environment was the Silph Company skyscraper.

She glanced once more behind her, towards those two specs a good two football-fields away. Here, they were plenty far and no one else seemed to be anywhere around.

A bawling Albina turned to her beloved companion. Einstein too was weeping, the bottom edges of his sunglasses dripping wet.

They hugged, the giant man dwarfing Albina and engulfing her with his wide girth, and in their embrace the two of them cried evermore. She began laughing, too. She couldn't help it. She was happier now than she had ever been.

It was kind of spur of the moment, but the girl decided she wanted to taste the tears on her man's handsome face. Ensnaring his head with both hands, she lowered his countenance down to her level. Then, she removed his sunglasses, exposing his bright red eyes,  _her red eyes_ , for Einstein the Ditto had emulated them almost exactly. Copying them, using them, it was a sign of their love. Those were the pair of eyes he knew best, the one's belonging to the woman he loved more than anyone, more than anything, much more than he did himself.

That wasn't the only reason, though. Einstein didn't like his own set. He never had. To him, his real eyes were ugly black beads, colorless, diminutive, and even malformed. Albina knew this. Using her  _Dark_ , the  _Dark_  manifested in her soul, she could taste his deepest, darkest secrets, as well as see many of the memories that haunted her beloved's somber soul.

There was more. Albina knew full-well that the little Pokémon she had fallen in love with hated his true form, his pathetic, pink blobby body. Einstein was a very jealous Ditto. He always had been, even before they first  _met_ at The Big Riddle Inn.

She slid her tongue all over his cheeks, exploring the surface and contours of his chosen, meticulously sculpted face.

"They're delicious darling," she told him, slurping the drops right up. At the same time, she was also slobbering all over him. Less tears, more saliva. She sucked on his nose before gnawing playfully on it with her teeth. Einstein was very proud of his nose. He had been working on it, perfecting that cartilage for almost a year. Albina knew this. She knew most of everything about him. Her eyes, her  _Dark_ , could feed upon his soul.

"Alright," she said after giving his button-nose a final, thorough lick. "Give him to me! I wish to speak with him."

Einstein started digging into his black bag, sorting through wigs and costumes as he searched for the red and white spherical device; the Pokéball, specifically, Koga's Pokéball, his new home. Normally, Pokéballs could only confine Pokémon. It was part of the device's inherent design. Using her  _Dark_ powers, Albina had discovered she possessed the unique ability to trap human beings, their minds, bodies, and souls within these man-made devices.

Albina extended an open hand. In turn, Einstein placed the Pokéball in her palm and, gently tugging that hand and folding it up to his mouth, kissed each of her knuckles one by one.

After he was finished, Albina giggled happily.

Placing Koga's Pokéball against her pink lips, Albina said in her true voice, " **Fuck you, Ninja Master**!" The true speech her lungs produced was a deep, guttural baritone, an unnatural kind of sound that always seemed to scare the pants off of even the most dauntless of humans. It happened several years ago, like the onset of rapid puberty. One day, she realized that the pitch of her voice had dropped a few octaves. Several, actually. It was the same day the  _Dark_  inside her heart was born. That was also the same day she and all the other sex slaves at The Big Riddle Inn finally  _became_  free.

Albina still had her original voice, of course. She could switch between the two. One voice was sweet and silvery, the other profound and cavernously deep.

She laughed again, a series of high-pitched giggles. She just couldn't stop. Nothing but bliss ran through her veins as her  _Dark_  feasted upon the human's, Koga's, mire of despair. She could feel it, could hear his soul crying out to her own.

"Let me out of here!" that tiny voice rang inside her heart. "I beg of you, Albina! Please! PLEASE!"

" **I'd make myself comfortable if I were you** ,  **human** ," Albina coldly recommended to the old man trapped within the Pokéball. " **Later, you will** ** _beg_** **me to put you** ** _back_** **in your cage**."

"Dear Arceus...Albina! Please, listen to me! Janine, they have my daughter, Janine!"

" **I am aware of that. It changes _nothing_!** "

"What...no, how can you say that? That's insane, please try to understand. I can only imagine what you've been through, but...Team Rocket has my daughter. I'm telling you, I had no other choice. Giovanni threatened to kill her. He has time and time again. Wouldn't you do anything for the one you love? Even if it meant forsaking your own soul?"

At that, Albina exuded a shrill laugh.  **We are monsters created by monsters**.

"We are not monsters, Albina. We are human beings with people in our lives that we love and cherish deeply. Put yourself in my shoes. Understand why I did what I did. Please, give me a chance."

At that, Albina scowled. " **You ask me to understand. To emphasize. To put myself in your shoes. To give a fuck. Such a hollow request. Forever you shall walk in your shoes, and forever I shall walk in mine. Lest you forget, you did not merely forsake your own soul. You did anything for the one you loved. And in exchange for your daughter's life, you ruined the lives of others. You ruined mine. My life, for Janine's. You would go so far as to kill me and everyone I care for if it meant saving the one you do. Concerning your quandary and your daughter's fate, I will bestow upon it the indifference it deserves. This conversation is over.** "

The Shiny human let loose an inhuman  **snarl**  before turning her attention to her beloved Einstein.

"Let's share this blessed news with our sister, shall we?" she said, switching to her honeyed, feminine intone. In one hand, she grasped Koga's Pokéball, the long white talons stretching from her fingers scraping against its round surface as she toyed around with it. In the other hand, she held the Holo Caster out in front of her. There were more than a few contacts she had saved on that electronic device. One of them was Lieutenant Surge. How hilarious! Scrolling down the touch screen with her thumb, she found and selected the Pokémon who she wished to speak with.

Her Shiny sister.

When Albina pressed the button on her Holo Caster, it immediately began to ring.

 **Ding**.

"Yes, yes, yes, FUCKING YES!" she seethed, unable to control her excitement.

 **Ding**.

She couldn't stop laughing, either. "HEHE-HEHE-HEEE!"

 **Ding**.

On the third ring, her call was answered. Albina was still sobbing and sniveling, giggling and cursing as the cyan digital image of a Pokémon emerged from the Holo Caster she held in front of her. It was a Gardevoir. Though it was impossible to tell via the monochromatic cyan hologram projection, she was a Shiny Gardevoir.

Albina promptly bowed.

The Gardevoir's hologram proxy returned the gesture, bestowing upon Albina a court curtsey. All grown up, she was the same Pokémon Albina had met many years ago, when they were two  _Shiny_  slave girls who lived in the suite at The Big Riddle Inn.

Between the two of them, the main obstacle to their relationship was Albina's inability to hear Desiree  _whisper_  to her. Moreover, the Gardevoir could not communicate with her humanoid sister telepathically. No Psychic, Pokémon or human, could ever hope to shine their  _Light_  upon Albina.

The  _Dark_  devoured all  _Light_.

Sitting down in a chair, the Gardevoir placed her Holo Caster on the table in front of her and began clearing her throat. "Good," she cleared her throat again, "…Morning, sis-ter." Her voice was breathy and hushed, like a human muttering under her breath. Human speech was impossible for most Pokémon, and thus not at all easy for someone like her; in fact, it was incredibly laborious for the Gardevoir, even somewhat painful. Desiree had only learned human speech, practiced through the physical hurt so she could "talk" to her humanoid sister.

Desiree's voice was further derailed, however, due to the fact that she was a heavy smoker. She had picked up the habit soon after beginning her new life as a free Pokémon. Even now, Albina could see her sister was about to light up. In one hand, she held a lighter, and in the other she dragged a cigarette up to her face.

Albina considered chiding the Gardevoir, but thought better of it. Instead, she attempted to remedy the Pokémon's obvious discomfort with a genuine grin and amicable greeting. "Dear sister," she said with a soothing, almost dulcet inflection. "My  _Shiny_  sister. You are looking absolutely beautiful, per usual. I hope I did not wake you."

The Gardevoir shook her head. "No…been…biz-zee."

"As have I, my dear Desiree. As have I." Like her sister, Albina was working for the furtive  _Pokémon Legion_. Both were very prominent and accomplished within the shadowy organization. Their rank: Alpha.

While Albina was tasked with abducting humans, Desiree, a powerful Psychic Pokémon, performed as a  _Puppet Master_. Captured humans were brought to the Legion where Puppet Masters could make use of them through mind-control.

"I bring wonderful news!" Albina said to her Shiny sister. "You will not believe our good fortune."

Desiree's big Gardevoir eyes were bulging. She looked aghast. "Why…you crying?"

With the sleeve of her bodice, Albina quickly wiped the tears from her face. "Please, do not worry, sister," she said hurriedly. "These are happy tears."

"O," the Gardevoir breathed, clearing her throat again. "Ehem…Hmm. Sad-Sab-rina?"

"No, not yet," Albina said, shaking her head. Of all humans, Desiree hated Sabrina, the Mistress of Psychic Pokémon most of all. "The bitch wasn't at her Gym," Albina continued. "Wasn't at her home, either. It appears the Rockets are finally catching on to our pernicious little ventures. It's no matter. We will find her, I swear that to you, sister. Still, I bring good news. I ended up bumping heads with Koga. Koga, of all people! And! I captured him. Take a look!"

She hoisted up the spherical device for her sister to see, the Pokéball containing Koga. "Can you believe it?"

The Gardevoir lit her cigarette. Sucking the poison in, she took a long drag before puffing out a big cloud of smoke. "Mm-master mm-Malamar…will be…" She coughed lightly before at last gasping, "…pleased."

Behind her sunglasses, Albina's scarlet eyes narrowed. " _He_  is not my master," she said, frowning. "No one pulls my strings. Not anymore. I've told you, I do this only for Einstein, and for Ally, and for you, my dear Desiree. For us. No one else… _Oh_ , sister! Sister! Listen to this! I've got a surprise for you."

"Wh-what?" Overtly nervous, the Gardevoir began twirling her shoulder-length hair. Whenever someone did or tried to do something nice for her, she became very anxious, even if that kindness came from family.

"The question should be,  _who_ ," Albina said through a grin. "See, Koga isn't even the best part. While I didn't catch Sabrina for you, I am bringing someone even better. The bitch's progeny! A son, Lucian, as he is called."

The Gardevoir blinked her big eyes rapidly. "Didn't know…Sab-rina had a son."

"Neither did I! He's in his late teens, early twenties, somewhere along those lines. Young and very, very handsome, actually. He is also wary, very wary. But! –I believe I've earned his trust."

The Gardevoir tilted her head. "You did not capt-tour him?" she mumbled, her cigarette sticking out of her mouth.

"No, see that's the thing. Oddly enough, he isn't  _rotten_  like his mother. In fact, he knows nothing of her treachery. The Rockets even tried to kidnap him, likely to take him somewhere safe. Luckily, I was there to intervene. Oh sister, it was  _dee-licious_!" She licked her lips before loosening a series of giggles. "I wish you could have seen it! That's when I caught Koga. He was absolutely horrified when he saw my eyes."

"Good jaw-b, sis-ter."

"There's more, my dear. Much, much more to your surprise! This human, Lucian. Get this. Like his mother, he is  _Psychic_. Except, he is rather underdeveloped, it seems, which has its perks. Like I said though, he's very wary, intelligent too, and not very credulous. At the same time, discerning the real world he's quite,  _inexperienced_  I believe is the right word. He trusts me now, I'm sure of it. I've taken him under my wing for the time being, convinced him that I'm an investigator trying to help him find his mother, Sabrina. Technically, that is  _exactly_  what I am trying to do. There's just one problem. He's a Psychic and I fear that his Light will find my beloved Einstein. And if that happens, well…" Albina giggled worriedly, woefully.

In turn, the Gardevoir looked anxious again. "How is broth-er?"

"My darling is as well as can be," Albina answered with a low sigh, disappointed by her sister's lack of objective understanding and gratitude. She turned the Holo Caster so Desiree could see him. The Gardevoir must have  _whispered_  something to Einstein using her Light, otherwise the thumbs-up he conferred to the hologram might have seemed completely random.

"So, sister," Albina said, "I do hope you're beginning to see why this is so very…marvelous. And why I need your help. We. We need your help. Einstein and I cannot stay with the human for much longer." Albina threw on a sly smirk. "If you really care about your  _brother_. And about your sister. About your family. You will help  _us_."

Desiree looked very taken aback by that statement. Blowing out a puff of smoke, she then said, "Wat do…you ah-sk of me?"

Albina's tone became very serious. "This Lucian is an even greater asset than Koga. What I'm trying to explain, and forgive me, I know this might sound like a lot, but… please do this for me. I want you to travel to Saffron City and look after him."

The Gardevoir bobbed her head as if she understood. "You want me to…to con-trol him."

Albina shook her head. Desiree still didn't get it. "Not exactly, or directly, at least. No, I want you to…" She paused. Then, smiling sheepishly, she said, "… _befriend_  him.  _Help_  him.  _Study_  his vulnerable mind with your  _Light_. I would with my  _Dark_ , but it's becoming much too risky."

For a minute, the Gardevoir reflected upon what Albina had said. Then she started shaking her head in disbelief. Those big Gardevoir-eyes of hers closed and she even discarded her cigarette, dropping it onto the table.

"Why?" the Gardevoir said at last, her now free hand clenched into a tiny fist. "Why…howl-c-can u ask this of me? Just capt-chure him…bring…Hmmm…to Lord Mal-umm-marrr." She then began coughing. One of her tiny hands clenched around her slim neck as she hooted painfully.

Albina's lower lip dropped as a sliver of guilt rose inside her. "Shhh, you talk too much, sister. Do not hurt yourself! I…I did not mean to upset you." As much as Albina despised humans, even renouncing her own humanity, she knew her sister Desiree hated them even more. She feared them, too. As a capable Psychic, Albina knew her sister was constantly exposed to the surface thoughts of all humans. And considering Desiree's past, which was different than Albina's in some regards, that fear was warranted.

"Forgive me," Albina said, very much aware that her request was a heavy one, but nonetheless validated by perks, several satisfying perks that could not and should not be overlooked. Desiree still had yet to understand. Perhaps she could be convinced with more of the delicious truth. "I just thought you would be pleased by this opportunity. A chance, a ticket to get your revenge on Sabrina. She is the boy's mother, after all. But his father,  _oh his_   _father_ , you'll never guess who he is…"

Pointed at her knees, Desiree's eyes were hidden by tresses of hair. One of her tiny hands clutched the pointed fin on her chest while the other one began inching towards the cigarette on the table. "…Hooo?" she said, still looking down.

" _Him_."

The Gardevoir's big eyes reappeared as she looked up. Albina simply grinned as her sister digested that single celebrated word.

"You can't mean…Rrrr…ed?"

Albina nodded.

"You…churrre?"

"I am. Listen carefully, my sister–"

"–You…rrr…sure? You're not…tricking me?"

Desiree had trust issues, even with family. Sometimes, Albina wished she was a Psychic instead of Dark, so her dear sister, a Gardevoir who was one with the  _Light_ , could find her beating heart, read her every thought, and see the truth within her mind. It would make everything easier, saving the poor Pokémon girl from having to formulate painful human speech. Plus, Albina always believed it would have drawn the two of them closer together, even more so than they already were. When they were little girls, two  _Shinies_  suffering side by side, both at the mercy of Team Rocket's wanton whims, how much Albina wished they could have comforted each other verbally or otherwise. For a long time, far too long, it was very difficult.

"You must believe me, my Shiny sister," Albina tried to say with as much compassion and reassurance as her lungs would allow. She removed her sunglasses. "I would never, ever lead you astray. You know that. My eyes have feasted upon this human's soul several times already. His father is  _Red_. I am sure of it. You will know I am telling the truth when you see him. The boy, Lucian, looks just like  _him_. Like my little Einstein, as well." Albina's lips upturned slightly. It was both a happy smile, and a sad one, too. "That's another reason we must part. At any moment this human is going to recognize that the face my beloved is wearing is practically his father's."

Although Albina and Desiree hated humans, that intense odium did not apply to all of them. There was one human they venerated very deeply.  _Red_. Albina revered the famous hero who defeated Team Rocket so much that her beloved Einstein had sculpted his human-face in Red's image.

"This is why you must look after him," Albina said, hoping her sister was at last comprehending that the pros outweighed the cons. "Help him," Albina continued, "guide him! You must be the one, not I. You deserve this, he's Sabrina's son, after all. And Red's. And you know what that means."

Albina could tell her sister was beginning to grasp Lucian's potential importance. No longer did the Gardevoir look dour and sullen. " _The Gate_ ," Desiree said tremulously. "Heee…sss…the one…Heee…could open-it…"

"Exactly, my dear sister. At last, we're on the same page. You see, this Lucian is a marionette to our cause. And as much as I know it might pain you, you're the best one to pull his strings."

**Note: Thank you for getting this far. Now that many of the characters have been introduced & several key elements distinguished, let the Gardevoir drama/romance officially begin! Thus far, I hope you're beginning to grasp the difference between the "Light" and the "Dark." I am not one to spoil my own story, but here is a tip: Light is the mind, Dark is the soul. Everyone has Light and Dark, a mind and a soul, but not everyone can see the Light and Dark radiating from others. Light is made up of thoughts and ideas, while Dark is the manifestation of memories, happy, sad, and anywhere in between. We already know several characters who can see the Light and bend it. Now we know one who can wield the Dark. Perhaps there might be someone who is exercising both, but just doesn't know it yet (:**


	6. A Warm Blanket

**Note: Mature readers only please, as there is drug use. Also, keep in mind that Pokemon Dollars are different than U.S. dollars. 100 Pokemon Dollars approximately equals 1 U.S. dollar. Moreover, divide the amount of Pokemon Dollars by 100 to obtain its U.S. dollar equivalent. I hope you're liking Desiree the Gardevoir. Now that she's here, she's here to stay. Also, I know she's having a really tough time, poor thing. Things will improve.**

Atop a capacious parking garage on the southwestern side of Goldenrod City, Desiree could view the sandy white beach, and beyond it the icy blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. The sky was overcast as usual. Struggling to filter through the clouds, the sun only succeeded in gracing Goldenrod with a mundane gray light.

Goldenrod was recognized by humans as, "A Happening Big City," where tourists came to see the Radio Tower, patrons perused the famous Department Store, fools gambled at the Game Corner, and Trainers came to challenge Whitney for the Plain Badge.

They were everywhere, Pokémon Trainers. The Gardevoir could tell who they were by their auras, that unmistakable air that advertised, "I want to be the very best."

A cigarette rested in the crook of Desiree's fingers as she stood idly by on the topmost floor of that large six-story parking garage. She liked to think of the edifice as her home, a giant mansion that unbeknownst to anyone else belonged to her. This particular spot overlooking the southern docks was her scenic balcony.

She had been sleeping on the top floor of the parking garage for several months, usually curling up underneath a neglected car at night for shelter. When it rained, she simply moved one level below to stay dry. During the mornings and afternoons, the garage bustled with activity, humans beginning their daily routines and later finishing them. If someone like her was discovered, a Shiny Gardevoir, most would surely try to capture her in a Pokéball.

Avoiding them was easy enough, though.

As a Gardevoir, Desiree was adroit in the art of stealth. Possessing an inherent anti-gravity field, she could float. Floating should not be confused with flying, as she couldn't levitate her body up very high for very long without becoming exhausted, but it was an advantageous ability nonetheless. It also helped that she was a dainty 5'3," ninety-six pound featherweight. The beyond diminutive frame allowed her to fit in or pass through even the most enclosed spaces. Once, she had hidden in the flue of a chimney. Another time, she crammed herself legs first inside a large downspout. More recently, she had stupidly tried to hide in the muffler of a parked car. Thinking back, she must have been high. That was one of the few instances she was ever terrifyingly close to being caught.

She remembered it like it was yesterday. Happening last week, as a matter of fact, the incident was indeed fresh in her mind. After managing to force her leg through the opening, there was no way to make the other leg, or even foot, fit inside. Instead, her wannabe-abductors gained a ton of ground in their pursuit as she struggled to rip her first leg free, which had become wedged in the car's muffler. Reminiscing, she could still hear their loud footsteps and shouting as they rumbled up the garage inclines as fast as they could. Worst of all was what they were thinking about doing to her, if they managed to get their hands on her.

In the end, Desiree evaded them by levitating the entire car, spinning it around one-hundred and eighty degrees so the trunk of the vehicle, along with her helpless body, was facing the wall instead sticking out like a sore thumb. Eventually, she freed herself, and when her pursuers checked that spot she was long gone.

Really, the only hindrance to her ability to hide was the disproportionately large head to the rest of her body and the pointy heart-shaped orange fin extending from her chest. Her 32B cup wasn't too much of an issue. Never once did Desiree wish her bust was any bigger, as they were quite perky and cumbersome for a Gardevoir.

Desiree took a puff of her cigarette before discarding it completely, letting it fall to its six-story doom. Today of all days, she was leaving her nest. How long she would be gone she did not yet know.

Earlier in the morning, she had received a call from her Shiny Sister, Albina, who wanted her to – aka ordered her to – travel to Kanto to  _help_  train some human. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Either way, that meant taking the goddamned Magnet Train, which was never fun, which also meant interacting with humans, and not just this mysterious son of Sabrina's and Red's that Albina had prophesized, either.

If Desiree was passionate about anything besides smoking, it was her misanthropy. In short, she very much disliked humans. She was terribly afraid of them, too. It was probably a borderline phobia. She spent most days minding her own business, adamantly avoiding people and smoking a pack or two of cigs. Shooting up a few  _stims,_ too, if she could get her hands on them.

Occasionally, Malamar, The Lord of Light and Dark, would speak with her using his bright Light. When he requested her audience, it was a summoning she could not refuse, much like Albina's. Thankfully, such voyages had been rare. She had already proven herself, showing The Lord she was fully capable of puppeteering most individual humans for an extensive period of time with mind control. While The Lord was still recruiting soldiers into the Legion, a permanent presence for her was not yet required.

Things were about to change, though. Drastically too, if Albina was right about this human and he really could open  _The Gate_. If this human was capable, Malamar would be infinitely pleased with this discovery. That and his ambitions would likely come to fruition, thereafter.

She didn't want to think about that, though. The fear of the unknown frightened her more than anything else.

It was early evening when she finally forced herself to begin the arduous trek to the Magnet Train Station. At least she didn't have to bring much with her. No giant brief case for her to lug around using telepathy, nope, just a few things which all fit neatly inside the purple knapsack dangling like a reverse necklace down her back and around her slim neck and shoulders. She felt no resistance holding it all up with her psyche.

Inside the purple knapsack, there was her Holo Caster, lighter, a pack and a half of cigs, a bottle of water, a 52-standard deck of Kalos playing cards, a hypodermic needle and syringe, pocket knife, and a dark red shoelace. She used the shoelace as a tourniquet. When she first found it alone and abandoned on the ground a few months back, it had been a white shoelace.

There was also bundles of cash, 14.5 million Pokémon Dollars worth in that bag, most of it courtesy of her Shiny Sister. They were the spoils of Albina's frequent human abductions. During the last year, Albina, the Legion's most proficient Hunter, had been very busy capturing humans. Many of them were Pokémon Trainers. While the Legion made direct use of these captives, Albina ended up keeping most of their pocket money. Some of the fortune Albina had amassed she gave to her Shiny Sister, Desiree. Albina liked to tease that it was an allowance. Desiree used human money mainly to buy food and beverages from vending machines. Cigs and drugs were procured using this money, as well.

The Gardevoir kept straight north, floating through a low-income part of town on her way to the Magnet Train Station. Most humans who lived in this neighborhood kept to themselves, remaining behind closed doors which were bolted shut. It wasn't a very safe section of the city. The polar opposite, in fact. That's why Desiree chose to journey through it.

Fewer sauntering humans meant fewer obstacles. Moving stealthily, she crossed paths with very few of them. Those she sensed approaching she hid from or circumvented to avoid confrontation.

Down a wide neighborhood road, trash was strewn everywhere, a few articles of clothing, papers, napkins, and unwanted and/or stale food. Up ahead, she saw a half-eaten cheeseburger which a Weedle had found and claimed for dinner. Cars, most of them with bleak, rusted hues were parked along the edges of the road like a complementary border separating the pavement from private property.

When Desiree detected four potential threats approaching, she hastily ducked for cover, sailing underneath a car and firmly pressing her butt and back against its undercarriage. In her haste, she bumped her head but stifled even a peep as she hovered just a few inches in the air, her hair grazing the cemented ground and boobs brushed up against it, too. Her fin was pounding as the humans and their Pokémon passed, two kids talking and giggling gingerly. Desiree could tell they were sharing a bag of chips by the shrill crunching sound of two munching mouths. With them were their two Pokémon, an Oshawott and a Starly.

The human duo was a girl and a boy. Ellie and Michael were their names, she was fifteen and he was fourteen. Desiree collected their thoughts, perceiving that they were two best friends, having known each other since the second grade. Michael had been there for Ellie when her older brother died in the hospital last year. Her brother had been struck by a drunk driver while playing in the street with his Oshawott. The tragic accident later turned lethal. There was too much internal bleeding to save Ellie's brother, who passed away hours later in the emergency room.

The incident occurred just a few blocks away, a haunted street corner the two kids, Starly, and especially Oshawott deliberately evaded in their neighborhood. In fact, it was the very reason they were here now, as Ellie and Oshawott preferred to take the long way back home from school and Michael insisted on accompanying them safely there each afternoon before backtracking with his Starly to their own.

The two teenagers spent a lot of their time together. They were in the same class and hung out most days after school to watch and discuss their favorite anime. Michael had his starter Pokémon, a Starly, and Ellie had adopted her late brother's Oshawott.

Ellie often helped Michael, who had a learning disability, with his homework. In turn, he gave her some of his food during lunch at school, food his mother packed for him every morning. He knew Ellie was one of six siblings, formerly seven, and that both of her parents were neglectful alcoholics who struggled to take care of their large family.

Michael liked her. Ellie liked him back. Neither knew how the other felt. Michael thought she was too smart for someone like him, and deserved better. Ellie found Michael very attractive, as did most other girls her age, but felt he was way out of her league.

As they strolled passed, Desiree wondered how many years the two humans would remain close until their relationship fell apart.

Only when she could no longer hear the crunching of chips did the Gardevoir carefully float out from beneath the car.

Scrubbing over the spot she bumped, Desiree felted vexed when she saw bright red blood on her fingers. Scowling at those bloody fingers and then the culprit, the car, she found her reflection in one of the tinted windows. An orange eye glared back, as did the other which was partly covered by the sapphire bangs of her hair. She quickly glanced away, demurring much like she would upon meeting the eyes of someone, anyone else.

As she continued along, keeping to the shadows, someone else caught her attention. Another human.

A ways down the street, there was a tapered alley with a large dumpster at the end. Behind that dumpster was a male human who was sleeping. He was a vagrant named Grouch, and he had with him one Pokémon, a Kingler who was in its Pokéball, also asleep.

The Light revealed more. He had a backpack containing an assortment of items, most of everything he owned actually. One of those items was of particular interest to her. Specifically, Desiree detected he had with him a bottle of  _stirring_. Grouch was a drug dealer.

Stims. She couldn't resist. Now, she could go up to this Grouch, wake him up, and buy the stims off him. Or, she could just take it while he was asleep.

It's not that Desiree was prone to stealing. She had plenty of money. Whatever price he named, she would be able to afford it. In reality, she just preferred not having to negotiate with him, a human, if she could get away with it. Many times over, she had purchased stirring from dealers for as little as 10,000 Pokémon Dollars.  _I'll leave him 15K in restitution_ , Desiree vowed.

It would be the best of both worlds. She would get her hands on some stims without having to partake in face time with a human.

Desiree was deathly silent as she approached. Unhindered by gravity, she made no footsteps slinking down the dim alley where the sleeping human was sitting on his ass, his back against the wall of the brick building. He was wearing a filthy white uniform which highlighted his lengthy mass of dark hair, long unkempt ringlets which fell from his head and bearded face. He smelled awful.

She took a moment to read his mind, curious about him. Grouch was dreaming about his Pokémon, Kingler. In his dream, they had just won a Pokémon tournament together. The prize money they earned for their victory was a million Pokémon Dollars.

Propped up against Grouch's ribs was a yellow backpack. Bingo! That's where he kept his stims. Using telekinesis, the Gardevoir slowly  _pulled_  it towards her until it hovered in front of her hands like a miniature helicopter. Her cautious eyes scanned the dirty vagrant who continued snoring, still fast asleep.

His was one of those bulky rucksacks that had more zippers and compartments than she knew what to do with. More so from anticipation than fright, her hands trembled as she unzipped one of the pockets. The zipper wasn't especially rowdy, but in the otherwise silent ambiance of the evening she felt as if she had pulled a fire alarm which might alert the entire neighborhood to her presence.

Feeling around, it didn't seem like what she was looking for was in the first pocket.

She checked on Grouch. He was still asleep.

Opening another pocket, she dug around with a slender hand, prodding with her thumb and two long fingers.

When she thought she had found it, she felt her face break into a sneaky grin. The cylinder shape was definitely a plastic bottle. Slowly tugging it out, her eyes confirmed what her fingers had foretold. It was a bottle of stirring!

Stirring was a concentrated version of the Pokémon medicine, Awakening. Regular spray cans of Awakening had few symptoms other than serving to wake up a Pokémon who was forced into slumber during battle. Instead of spray, stirring was an intravenous narcotic specially cooked, containing various additional ingredients to enhance its strength and alter the original effect. Compared to Awakening, stirring was an infinitely more potent dosage and highly addictive.

By taking his stirring, Desiree liked to think she was doing him a favor. If he was caught by the authorities selling such a substance, he would be incarcerated for a lengthy period of time. Now for his payment, the 15K she promised–

"–Whatcha doing?"

Desiree froze. She thought she heard a human utter those words, someone close, just a few feet away.  _Please let me have imagined that._

Her fin pounding, Desiree stole a glance from behind the yellow backpack hovering in front of her face.

"Wowzers, yee a shimmery blue just like the sea!" that terrifyingly gruff voice said. "Reminds me of the ocean, ya do, yew really do."

Sitting on the ground, Grouch's eyes were wide-fucking open. Desiree's eyes honed in on the giant bulge on the thigh of his leg. The man was digging around violently in his pants pocket with a large hand. For a few split-seconds, moments of increased terror, she thought he was masturbating to her. Instead, he ended up yanking a square red device out of his pants pocket. Holding it out in front of him, he pointed it at her.

When that electronic machine started talking, Desiree's psyche immediately stopped levitating his behemoth of a backpack.

She didn't even hear it crash to the ground as Grouch's Pokédex said in its robotic voice, "Gardevoir, the Embrace Pokémon. Gardevoir has the psychokinetic power to distort the dimensions and create a small black hole. The fin extending from their chests grants Gardevoir a psychosomatic sixth sense, allowing them to perceive the mood and emotions from those around them. If this Pokémon has a strong bond with her Trainer, she will give her life to protect them."

Definitely awake, Grouch was beaming at her as he said, to Desiree's utter disbelief, "Are yew a Pokémon angel?"

She tried hard not to look frightened as she shined her Light upon him.  _Yes, I am_ , she whispered.  _Arceus, sent me._

"Areceus…dee Maker of all Pokémon…" Grouched swallowed very audibly as a thoughtful expression played across his face. "Are yew by any chance…my Pokémon guardian angel?" He kept rubbing his eyes in amazement. "Are ya here to help her?"

Gardevoir wasn't as good at acting as her Shiny Sister, but this was no time to dwell on that fact.  _I am,_ she whispered to his mind.

"Wowzers! Yee lips aren't even movin' when yew speak. It's like I-kin hear yew voice inside me head. Ya voice is so…angelic."

 _This is how we angels communicate, Grouch_.

"I don' even needa tell yee my name. Yew just know it!" He swiped at his slushy nose with the sleeve of his uniform. "Yee the most beautiful creature I ever seen, Miss...Angel…I…I'm not worthy but, thank ya! Thank ya so much fer coming!" His eyes flew to the sky. "And thank ya too, Arceus! Thank yew, thank yew, thank yew so much for answering me prayers!"

With each passing second, Desiree felt more and more uncomfortable. Suddenly, with swift, frightening movements, Grouch shuffled around to get on both of his knees. Desiree hadn't a clue what he was about to do. His Light was all over the place. It was one of many reasons she feared humans. There were so sporadic and impulsive. Sometimes, they surprised even a Psychic like her.

It correlated with her fear of the unknown.

Likewise, Desiree was completely shocked when Grouch, his head bowed and arms clasped together, began begging. "Please, Miss Angel! Please heal me Pokémon! It's my Kingler, ya see? She's sick. Been sick fer years. Lot's of em' out on the water, just the two of us, but not no more. It's her bones, yew see? The year's haven't been kind to-er old shell. Old girl's in a lot of pain...kills me seeing her like this, seein' the pain in her old eyes. Girl has trouble gettin' around and walkin'. Both claws are weak, even her big claw. I jus' hate seein' her like this. I hate it. It kills me. Please, Miss Angel. Please use yee divine powers and help her."

It was like the human had no shame at all. No brains, either. On his knees, he truly thought she was some kind of goddamned Pokémon angel. She read his mind again, trying to piece together his puzzle. All human's were puzzles. Contrary to what they liked to believe, they weren't terribly complicated puzzles, either.

As far as she could tell, Grouch was telling the truth. He was a vagabond deadbeat small-time drug dealer and failed Pokémon Trainer, but years ago he had indeed been a Sailor, first a deckhand working on a trawler with his Krabby, Astrid. When Astrid evolved into a Kingler, the two of them then worked out on the Goldenrod City shipyard. The Sailor and his faithful Kingler labored almost every day on those docks for over twenty years.

That changed when Astrid's health began deteriorating. Without his Pokemon's invaluable help, Grouch's career out at sea ended.

The justification behind his selling drugs was a simple one. Astrid was in very poor physical health. She couldn't lift anything, could hardly even move her larger left claw and she was experiencing difficulty and pain walking. Grouch suspected she might be suffering from a severe Vitamin D deficiency, which seemed unlikely to Desiree considering their time out at sea under the sun. Nevertheless, most of the money he  _earned_ selling drugs he saved to buy Calcium at the Goldenrod Department Store, vitamins which he gave to Astrid.

Pokémon Center's could heal Pokemon from battle injuries and fainting, but they did nothing to cure chronic diseases and others aliments. Grouch knew their days on the water as part of a fishing crew were over. Still, he couldn't bear to see his Kingler in so much pain. He was willing to do just about anything if it meant helping his lifelong friend. Even if that meant cooking and selling illicit drugs.

Still on his knees, Grouch swayed his clasped hands back and forth fervently as he began begging again. "Please, Miss Angel! Can yew fix her? Can ya?"

Desiree remembered the human's lame little dream. He wanted to win a bunch of money. She looked into his mind once again. As a Gardevoir, she could do more than see and bend Light. She could feel it too, much like she could feel the rays of the sun against her skin.

Contrary to the moniker, Grouch had a warm heart.

For a moment, Desiree almost felt like admitting that she was really a thief in the night. That was the truth. Instead, she couldn't believe what she was considering. She felt sick just thinking about it.

She took out her bottle of stirring. Grouch's bottle of stirring that she had stolen. His eyes widened as she held it up for him to see.  _First_ , she whispered,  _stop selling these_.  _Stop making them, too. You can get in a lot of trouble. Second, yes, I think I can help Astrid_.

"I didn't even tell ya her name..." the Sailor said in awe. He started nodding his head enthusiastically. "Never again," he said with a hand over his heart. "I'll stop right now, I swear on me life. Swear to Arceus, swear to yew too Miss Angel! Just, please! Please help me ol' girl."

Desiree reached into her knapsack. She was really going to do it. She was going to pay the man for her thievery, and a lot more than the original amount. Way more than the 15K she had promised in restitution.

She knew that once she started, she would have to finish. It was nauseating.

Reaching into her bag, she started pulling out clumps of cash. And, one by one she started tossing it to him. The first bundle landed at his feet. He just stared down at it, astonished. The second clump clung to his shaggy black beard, like a fish caught in a net. The third he caught with both hands.

 _I'm no medical professional_  – Desiree whispered telepathically as she tossed wads of crinkled cash at him –  _not even close_ ,  _but I doubt Astrid has a Vitamin D deficiency. Take her to a doctor just to be sure, but it sounds to me like Osteoporosis. Astrid's exoskeleton might look strong, but her arms and legs are vulnerable to wear and tear. Considering she can't move her claw, the arm is probably fractured or broken. As for her legs, I'm glad she can still walk but try to keep her off her feet until you know she's feeling better. I'm sure she's going to be fine, Grouch. Just make sure you get her treatment, asap. Like, maybe tomorrow, hint hint._

Her fin was pounding harder than ever as she floated closer to him. Throwing over a mill's worth of cash at the guy would take all night. As for the rest of her money, his money, she started dumping it down into his open arms down below. All of it. Everything she had. Or used to have. 14,500,000 Pokemon Dollars.

When there were no bills left in her knapsack, she noticed Grouch, who was cradling a heap of cash and had given up trying to count it all. He looked up at her. "Aye, yee really are an angel," he said, his eyes brimming with tears.

 _Yes, I am. Just remember, that money is for Astrid_.  _It should be more than enough._

At that moment, the human's eyes burst. Desiree had to look away. She didn't want to make eye contact, especially with a bearded old Sailor like him bawling.  _Well, I'd better go,_  she whispered.  _Duty calls. Lots of other angel-work on my plate. Take care, Grouch. Glad I could be of assistance. Tell Astrid I said, hi._

"Wait!" Grouch moaned, a horde of tear droplets sticking to his beard. Desiree searched his mind. His Light was all over the place. What more could he possible want from her?

When he climbed to his feet, she immediately backpedaled, her orange eyes wide with alarm.

"Hold on a sec, Miss Angel." Grouch said, making a move towards her, and when he did, Desiree unveiled a tiny, frightened squeal.

"Hey," he said, reaching towards her with both hands. "Me Pokédex said yew were dee Embrace Pokémon. I was wonderin' if…ya see if I could...ya know fer helping me and me girl...I don't know how else to thank yee."

Desiree discovered what he wanted to say next before he could manage say it. He was going to ask if he could give her a hug. He was also wondering if she would like to meet his Kingler. He knew Astrid would want to meet her, the angel who had helped them.

His hands pitched forward, towards her.

Before he could touch her, the Gardevoir vocalized a scream. "Get away from me!" she breathed before fleeing the scene, never once looking back as she floated away as fast as she fucking could.

"Come back, Miss Angel!" she heard a fading human voice emanate far behind. "I'm so sorry, didn't mean to scare ya!"

She pushed on, not stopping until she had to, until she was panting, sweating, and coughing painfully. Completely exhausted, she felt even more embarrassed and disgusted with herself. Nothing, she had basically nothing left. No money.

Then, she remembered. That wasn't completely true. There wasn't a nickel in her knapsack. But there was a bottle of stirring.

Scaling the slightly slanted shingle-clad roof of somebody's random home, Desiree made herself comfortable. Next to the gutter, she entered a sitting position, the slim legs beneath her gown forming a pretzel as she hovered a few inches in the air. She placed her purple knapsack in her lap and opened it up, removing what was needed. Biting down on the syringe between her teeth, she felt indignant. The needless guilt, helping that human, giving him all her money; 14.5 million Pokemon Dollars, no less.

Most of all, though, she felt lonely. She had read the human's mind, felt the warmness of his heart. In that moment, she almost experienced it, the love he had, the love he gave. It was like a blanket which wrapped around the her. It was warm and yet, at the same time it gave her chills, a thousand goosebumps springing up all over her arms and legs. In those few moments, she felt so many things. She just didn't know what they were, exactly.

It didn't matter. That blanket wasn't for her. It belonged to Astrid.

Desiree didn't have a warm blanket.

 _No goddamn money, either_ , she reminded herself as she coiled the dark red shoelace around her left arm, knotting it so hard it hurt.

Taking the syringe in her hand, she pierced the needle through the top seal of the bottle of stirring and measured the desired amount.

25mg or 50? Or a full 100mg, 2mL worth, which was as much as the syringe could hold? Anything over 50 mg, or 1mL, and there was always a chance she might OD. The main problem was she had to inject quite a bit to feel the desired effect. Over several months, she had built up quite the tolerance.

Risk/Reward.

Desiree decided to try 75mg, or 1.5mL. Without knowing the stirring's purity, she was hesitant to tread too far in dangerous waters. Besides, the less she used now, the more she could save for later.

She exhaled deeply as she penetrated the main vein in her blue left arm.

Right before she pushed the plunger with her thumb, the fact that she still needed to take the Magnet Train crossed her mind.

A little bit of stirring now to stave off the urge and make the sadness and stress melt away, if only for a little while. Soon after that, she would be calm and thinking clearly. That's when she would take the shuttle to Saffron City. She just had to make sure she didn't become too sedated. She didn't want to accidentally fall asleep.

The vexation and worry she felt faded as pure bliss, stirring, flowed through her veins. She quickly wedged herself inside the cool, damp gutter of the house, making herself comfortable as she lied on her back, her narrow shoulders just the right width to snugly fit inside. This way, she was also obscured from view. No humans to interrupt and ruin her fun.  _You had better fucking enjoy this_ , she told herself.  _You paid over 10 million dollars for it_.

Within seconds, the rush came and with it the Gardevoir's fin began to vibrate in ecstasy for a few glorious minutes.

She remained in that position, lying in the gutter for an inordinate amount of time, maybe close to an hour just staring up, watching the gray sky gradually fade to black like it was some kind of extraordinarily unusual phenomenon.

After the rush subsided, the crash soon followed.

Though her pulse was still elevated, her pointed fin rippling fiercely, the accompanying pleasure had passed. It happened quickly, within minutes after injection, and then that good feeling was gone completely. When that happened she tried if nothing else to cling to its memory, that indescribable pleasure, the best kind she knew.

Both of her hands found their way to the smooth sides of her little fin, which seemed to grow sorer and more swollen by the minute.

Pleasure for pain. Worth it.

Gazing up at the night sky, she didn't realize it was a different kind of dark when her eyes fastened shut. With the light pollution, no stars ever came out in Goldenrod City. Visually, there was no difference now between her eyes being open or closed.

Soon, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Unlike most Pokémon and even humans, Desiree didn't dream, not normally. Never as a Gardevoir, at least. When she was a very little girl, just a Ralts, she remembered dreaming almost every night.

She just couldn't remember what they used to be about.

When she used certain drugs, strong one's like stirring, sometimes they blessed her sleep with dreams.

This was one of those occasions. As she lay asleep in the gutter, she dreamed of a boy she met as a Ralts. It happened a long time ago on Route 34. She didn't remember very much, she was too young, but she would never forget his purple eyes and hair. Purple was her favorite color.

Most Pokémon didn't have the opportunity to choose their Trainers. Their companions. Ralts was different. They didn't normally reveal themselves to humans. Only when they sensed kind, warm feelings did they dare approach people.

When Desiree was a Ralts, she remembered approaching a human. She had felt his heart. His was kind and very warm. But as was the story of her life, things never turned out the way she planned.

Lying on a bed of soggy leaves inside a gutter, Desiree dreamed of what could have been. In that dream, she was wrapped in a warm purple blanket.


	7. The Burned Woman

In a sequestered and profligate neck of the woods within the Shining Big City, they were literally surrounded by woods. A familiar, earthy smell filtered through Albina's flaring nostrils as she, along with her party plus one, the human, Lucian, trekked through the paved road on the borderlands of Saffron. The sylvan slopes hardly looked any different than before, though now, dim shards of light sifted through the array of cracks in the the vast network of branches.

On the left, the woods were calm and beautiful. Two Butterfree's danced under the growing light. A Ledyba was stuck in a web, two legs caught in rigid threads which a Spinarak was busy untangling, working diligently to set her free. A group of Rattata's played in the grass while their mother, a Raticate, watched with guarded eyes.

There were five Rattata's. Just pups. Babies. Five babies.

Albina had to look away to stave off tears.

On the right, the woodlands were less dense. Around the sparse cluster of damned trees stood a battalion of unmanned construction vehicles, bulldozers, excavators, and loaders waiting to wreak havoc on nature.

Humans were always busy expanding their territory. The land belonged to them. Everywhere, already private property or soon to be.

Albina had to look away lest she scream in rage.

They walked briskly up the road, which crested upwards at a slight incline. The muscles in Albina's legs ached, but it wasn't from that petty slope.

Barely twenty, beneath charred skin were old, tired bones. The consequences of her youth at the Big Riddle Inn.

Legs were broken when she tried to run, arms and fingers snapped when she struggled. She learned not to run. She learned not to struggle.

When she screamed, sometimes they hit her so hard when she opened her eyes it was over. They were done. Waking up, she would try to convince herself it was all bad dream. Except it wasn't. There was proof every time. Violet patches on her sides, a sore pelvis. But at least she slept through the worst part. She learned to scream until their beatings stopped putting her to sleep.

From head to toe, her body now ached, a searing, relentless pain beneath unfeeling skin. That was the only part of her body that didn't hurt, her Shiny, once porcelain outline, incinerated and charred, the nerves cooked by cruel flames, the same flames that cooked her best friends to a crisp. That took five out of six.

She entered the oven to save them. The infamous Pokémon Center that terrorists, humans, targeted a year prior. That's when she saw them, hundreds of helpless Pokémon in their Pokéballs burning alive. Her Pokémon were in there, too. Rushing inside the flames and boiling along with them, she searched for them. For her best friends. She found them. She pulled them out.

Faith, Cassie, Wrath, Gooey, Bishop, and Einstein.

Her best friends. Pokémon she had met at The Big Riddle Inn. The one's she tried to love with all her heart.

After they escaped bondage, they wanted to come with her. They wanted to help her accomplish the dream they shared. They wanted to change the world. They wanted to make it a better place for Pokémon. That was when Albina became a Pokémon Trainer. That was why Albina became a Pokémon Trainer.

They were so scared. Albina was scared, too. Out of all of them, she was the bravest. Their fearless leader on the outside. In secret, a scared little girl within.

Six little pleas.

"Love me? Love me? Love me? Love me? Love me? Love me?"

That was all they asked for. Love. Albina didn't know what love was. Neither did they. No one ever taught them. She tried to learn. And what she learned she applied to them.

The only thing she was afraid of was failing them. That's why their screams haunted her so, tormenting her everywhere she'd go.

Now, she didn't even try to lie in bed. Screams floated around her head. "Kill me," they pled. If she had any regrets, it was that she didn't do quickly enough what they said. Their body's sizzling and red. They were already dead.

Faith, Cassie, Wrath, Gooey, and Bishop.

Outside of the Pokémon Center. Spilling out of their Pokéballs. Lying in the grass and the dirt. Lying there. Burning. Flames eating them alive. They stopped, they dropped, but they were too weak to roll.

Crying. Screaming. Begging. Five desperate pleas.

"Kill me, mommy! Kill me, mommy! Kill me, mommy! Kill me, mommy! Kill me, mommy!"

Einstein transformed into a Water Pokémon and doused them off. He doused them all off.

"No, daddy!" they screamed. "Kill me! Please, MOMMY! It hurts, MOMMY! Kill me!"

Smoldering bodies. So slow. Sobbing. One at a time. Swiftly. Ending their pain. Corpses.

In the end, only Einstein and Albina were strong enough to walk away. For so long, that's all they did.

Walk.

They stumbled upon a Ninetails soon after that. Broken and forlorn, Alabaster was an ancient Pokémon, one who had been betrayed by humans time and time again. Albina shared her Dark, her flame with his. She knew his pain, and he knew hers.

One day, the Ninetails told them about a voice he heard. Light he had seen. It came from a very powerful Pokémon known as The Lord of Light and Dark.

"Help me change the world!" Lord Malamar said. With nowhere else to go, Albina and Einstein joined the Pokémon Legion. Later, they convinced their sister, Desiree, to do the same.

In truth, Albina held no loyalty to the organization.

Lord Malamar wanted to open The Gate. Albina did too, but not for the same reasons he did. Malamar could not see this truth. The Dark protected her mind from his pervasive Light.

Only one individual had ever opened The Gate. Red.

Lucian was Red's illegitimate son.

When Lucian opened the gate, Albina would be there to claim what was inside. After that, nothing, no one would ever be able to hurt them again.

The Burned Woman checked her Holo Caster.

The time was 7:47 a.m. The storm clouds were gone, replaced by the sun which had just begun its ascent over the horizon. Albina wanted to be in Saffron's urban core by no later than 9:00 a.m.

Originally, the three of them bumped heads with only one Trainer on their way to Sabrina's estate. Fortunately, the Officer Jenny disguise deterred a battle. Ricocheting back through the trail with a blonde wig and sunlight overhead, she expected multiple incursions.

"Lucian," she whispered to the man following closely behind, but not that close.

She was testing the waters. He didn't answer. Apparently he couldn't hear her voice if she kept her pitch to a minimum.

"Yoo-hoo, Lucian?" she mumbled. Still no answer. This was good. She could speak discretely to her Ditto.

"How you doing back there?" Albina's voice rang, this time loud enough to carry over.

Laughter emanated from behind. Human mirth. "I assume… you're talking to… me?" the young man posed in between breaths. She could barely discern the thuds of footsteps as he fought to keep up with her. Alabaster trotted alongside him, matching the human's tempo. Unlike her, Alabaster's splintered heart remained open to humans and thus very vulnerable. It was his weakness. As if his trust and faith had not been dashed enough. As if centuries of war and despair had yet to teach him.

Glancing back, Lucian and Alabaster were twenty-five, maybe thirty feet in her wake. She wondered if the two were  _whispering_  to each other. Cultivating a positive relationship with the human was to be desired.

"I am talking to you," Albina finally answered, unamused despite sounding it, feigning it. "You alright way back there? You sound winded."

"My legs are killing me but I'm still alive. I don't really get out much."

"Yeah, you told me."

"Any chance Einstein could carry me the rest of the way?"

Albina let herself laugh. The human had his moments. "I don't think so. Hey! On a serious note, if we run into any Trainers, do not make eye-contact with them. We on the same page?"

"But of course, Commander," Lucian declared.

"Commander…" Albina repeated. Reflecting, that had to be the first time anyone ever referred to her as that. "Um, okay. Great! See, I'd like to avoid battling any Trainers, if that's okay with you?"

"More than okay on my end."

Albina's eyes shifted to her left, where her Ditto remained by her side, tall, dark, handsome...she didn't see his face. His head was turned to the left, so all she saw was the back of his bald head. Something in the beautiful, calm part of the forest had engrossed his attention.

Through her sunglasses, Albina caught sight of the distraction. His eyes were following a pair of Pidgeottos. One of them, the male, was circling around the female in an act of courtship. Moments later, the bird of prey landed on a branch, perching beside his feathery female mate. In their juxtaposition, the male offered her a treat, a small Bug Pokémon which she accepted. After gulfing it down, she nuzzled her rosy crest on the male's throat in gratitude.

Public displays of affection never ceased to captivate her Ditto. It gave him ideas on romance. Ideas he tried to emulate. For they were still learning how to love. Something still left to prove.

"Hey, Einstein," she whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. "My darling, eyes pointed forward please, but–"

He turned to her and smiled. It was the kind of perfect smile one might see in magazines, refined and enacted by celebrities or models. A perfect smile the Ditto had spent years perfecting. It wasn't this perfect smile that she needed.

Dampening her voice yet further, she said, "Pay attention. If we run into any Trainers, do me a favor and smile really big at them. The scariest smile you can imagine. The one we practiced. Do you remember, love? The Grinning Man. You remember him, don't you?" She smirked at him seductively, making his human face flush its true pink hue as he nodded in grave trepidation.

The Grinning Man was the scary smile Albina and Einstein had rehearsed, one so scary that it scared him. As the artist, her Ditto had to think about it long and hard, picturing it, painting that repulsive grin over his face, a wide thin-lipped rictus which stretched all the way to his earlobes, baring puffy pink gums fitted with only three teeth, the two on top long and pointy daggers, like ice cycles drooping down, and the other one, the one on the bottom in the middle a broad, rectangular baby-esque tooth. Lacking a standard set of choppers was a critical part of the design. The enormous grin's centerpiece was the swollen gums, with their gutted valleys and a slew of bulgy blisters. Above that ugly cavity his nose caved in, forming a crater in the center of his face. All that remained of her beloved's chosen face were his flesh and eyes. Her eyes. Their blood-red eyes.

The Grinning Man was The Burned Woman's idea. They unveiled him in certain situations. He had gotten them out of tight spots many times over. This time, they would use him as a deterrent to battling humans. Trainers. When confronted with The Grinning Man, their flight or fight senses kicked in. An overwhelming majority opted to perform the former.

"Just make sure my darling," the Dark girl sang quietly to her Ditto, "that our guest behind us  _doesn't_   _see you_."

Almost on the dot, when she finished giving him her instructions a Trainer came into view up the road a ways ahead. He was heading right towards them, and he was moving fast. A lanky human male speeding down the slope on a bicycle.

As he peddled closer, he abruptly slammed on the brakes. Maybe it was for his safety and theirs. More likely, he was stopping to challenge them to a Pokémon Battle. Either way, the four of them froze in place, holding their ground.

Alabaster snarled menacingly from behind. Lucian followed by pointing out the obvious. " _Trainer_!" he said with a quaint cynicism. " _Trainer_ , Albina there's a  _trainer dead ahead_!"

"I can see that, yah Zangoose…remember what I told you! Look away."

"I will, I swear," Lucian answered. "Hope this works. I'm just going to stare innocuously down at my…shoelaces. Salutations, shoelaces."

"You do that," Albina replied, feigning a laugh before biting down hard on one of her nails. Whenever she was anxious or lost in thought, her fingers tended to make their way to her mouth where she gnawed on her white claws in earnest, sometimes munching and crunching until one of them snapped clean off. It was an absentminded habit which revealed angst, the only sign she displayed at that. Concerning her claws, they grew back rapidly, of course, coming in after just a few minutes as protracted and razor-sharp as ever.

"Get ready, babe," she murmured to Einstein, slurping on a claw like it was a cotton candy. "Go ahead and take your glasses off, too."

Her beloved Ditto promptly removed his sunglasses, exposing vivid red eyes. Albina did the same, for an additional effect.

"Okay, on three, do The Grinning Man. One…two…three!"

At her command, the Ditto's face began to change.

About thirty feet away, the biker hopped off the seat with an athletic finesse. Tall and fitted with skin-tight garb, he rolled his two-wheeled machine towards them with one hand, the other shifting towards his waist where a pair of Pokéballs dangled around his belt.

"Morning strangers," he said, wheeling down the slope. His free hand unfastened one of the Pokéballs. "Care for a quick Poké–"

First, the Pokéball fell from his grasp, plopping down to the ground. The bicycle slipped out of the other, clattering down on its side, both spokes whirling around wildly. Next, the man, his eyes popping and mouth agape, let loose a rickety, almost inaudible shudder. Grabbing his bike by the top tube, he twirled it around before planting his butt on the saddle. Both legs left the ground, taking to the air, but in his haste he nearly neglected his Pokéball. He dropped his bike down with another bang, sprawled down to grab the spherical device and, in an almost congruent motion returned to the bike.

There was just one problem. Somehow, against all odds, his juddering legs and sagging arms forget how to ride. Fumbling around with the handlebars, he might have tumbled over if not for a leg and a foot which sprang out to prevent the fall.

His head whirled around to take another peek. Perhaps, he thought they were going to give chase. More likely it must have struck him that his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Double-taking led to subsequent triple and quadruple takes.

In conjunction with his three-toothed rictus, The Grinning Man gave the guy a little wave.

The biker's eyes ran only to stumble upon Albina. In that moment, nothing could have satisfied her more. Showing off a long, forked tongue, she licked her lips as if to express to the petrified human, "We're hungry and you're on the menu."

The biker tried to scream again but nothing escaped his lungs. Instead, his fear catapulted both his bike and body down on their sides. Gasping, he grabbed at his knee, scraped and shiny in the sunlight. Only with the onset of physical harm did he remember how to ride a bike. Climbing back on and thrusting his tush high in the air, he cranked and pushed on the petals as hard and fast up the hill as his wobbly legs would permit.

Never once did the biker look back. He didn't even look to see Einstein wave goodbye.

"Are we in the clear?" Albina heard Lucian mutter from behind. "Did the shoelaces work?"

"I think so," she answered, suppressing an outward sigh of relief. "It's like I told you, just don't make eye-contact."

"Whatever you say, commander."

"Commander?" Albina allowed herself to laugh, a series of genuine giggles. Best of all, that encounter went swimmingly. Lucian was oblivious to everything that just happened.

With his back to the bemused and somewhat droll human, Einstein began sculpting his normal, chosen face. It took longer and required more effort to go from scary to handsome than handsome to scary. First his mouth, teeth, and lips, and then came the nose. It took several minutes for the Ditto to get the latter just right. He was extremely picky about his nose.

Albina reinitiated a brisk pace, not wanting to settle until she knew Einstein's countenance was back to normal. Her eyes were fixed ahead, anticipating the arrival of another Trainer, but much of her anxiety was directed to their human guest.

Normal was only slightly better, as Einstein's chosen face was practically a mirror image to Lucian's. Near the top of her agenda was minimalizing their face-time.

Most importantly of all, Albina remained focused on manipulating the truth, earning and preserving the human's trust and loyalty. By now, she had imagined him toadying to everything she proposed. Eating out of her hands. Swallowing every single one of her lies.

Was he conquered? Or was there still work to do? Either way, Desiree needed to get her scrawny, Shiny ass over to Saffron so they could switch places. If Lucian accidentally opened the curtains to Einstein's disheveled mind, letting his Light shine through, her prospects for this gem of a human would be ruined. No amount of acting and seduction on her part would be able to remedy the human's perception if that happened.

As they continued ambling up the road, a finger found its way to her face, where her forked tongue lapped on the pale claw before seizing it and tugging it between spreading lips inside the cave of her jaws. Sharp fangs gnawed on the jagged tip, grinding away and easing Albina's tension, if only ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I've been exceedingly busy as of late, but it feels good to return to this project. Just a short chapter exploring Albina and Einstein. My eyes were glassy writing parts of this. There is still much, MUCH more to the two them. Chapter's 8 & 9 were written concurrently with this one and are almost ready. At last, they are going to arrive in Saffron City, where Alabaster is going to convince Lucian to become a Pokemon Trainer (& finally explain his "illness"). Enter Desiree and Lucian's adventure will truly begin. Desiree and Alabaster will be accompanying Lucian on this journey, of course. A dark, gritty journey, of course (=


	8. Monsters

The woods were lovely, dark and deep. It was never going to be an exceedingly long walk going through them. It just felt that way hiking up the slight incline. Every minute that bowled by reminded Lucian that they were going up. Barely. But enough to make him sympathize with the slothful tendencies of Slakoth.

Lucian's entourage maintained a firm pace. He had been training his whole life for something like this. Many years building stamina and mountains of muscle climbing the same flight of stairs. Sometimes, he would even dash up them two at a time.

Besides gawking at Albina's ass, the only distraction to his stinging legs was the woods. Dimly filtered by a yellow sun, those woods were once something he feared.

At night, they were black and filled with audible terrors, sounds from creatures unseen.  _Monsters_ , he told his younger self shivering under the covers,  _which like to feast on children_. As a boy, Lucian had a penchant for reading nightmare inducing novels, the kind that had a negative impact on sleep. Most of them were Ghost stories.

The worst part about these tales was the not so subtle fact that they were bathed in veracity. Ghost Pokémon were creepy. He even said that to his mother once when he was younger. Almost verbatim. "Mother," he had said. "Ghost Pokémon are creepy."

"Creepy," she repeated, looking up at him from a book she had been reading. "You just don't understand them, Lucy."

"But mom," he protested. "I do understand. I've read all about them. They're Attacks are Super Effective to Psychic type Pokémon. All your Pokémon are Psychics. Don't Ghosts scare you, too?"

Sabrina took a sip of her coffee. "Of course not, Lucy. Not anymore. Eventually, you will grow out of these childish fears." Smiling warmly, she then said, "I've got a proposal for you. Why don't you let me introduce you to a Ghost Pokémon? Tomorrow, perhaps?"

Lucian remembered that suggestion scattering the neurons in his brain as he unleashed a resounding, "No," before sprinting up the stairs and climbing into bed. He had trouble sleeping that night.

No way did he ever want to meet a Ghost Pokémon.

As he grew older, so did his fright. Lying in his bed, he would pull the covers up all the way to his ears, as if sheathing more of his body would somehow detract the chances of a Ghost encounter.

Cries he heard from the forest, this very forest, he sometimes swore came from a Misdreavus who wanted nothing more than to feed on his fear for dinner. To ward off lurking Ghost Pokémon, his mother had strewn anti-Ghost powder in a border around their property. As a secondary defense, she even sprinkled some underneath his bed. Neither seemed to stop Lucian's mind from churning out distasteful dreams, nor did it deter his curiosity.

He read that Duskull loved the crying of children, seeking out bad kids by passing through walls and making them cry even harder. "Bad kids?" What the fuck did that even mean? Subjective much.

Gourgeist, a creature with a pumpkin for a body and two locks of hair as arms and hands hunted Pokémon and humans alike, humming with eerie rapture as they observed the suffering of their prey. Talk about what the fuck?

Up until Lucian was around sixteen, Phantump haunted his dreams at least once a week. According to a story he should never have skimmed once but ended up rereading thrice, these Pokémon used to be children, kids just like him who died while lost in a forest only to become one with that forest, with their nature-infested graveyard, their spirits' trapped inside the stumps of small trees whose lives were also cut short. Literally. Even back then, Lucian remembered thinking, "What the heck," which today translated to, "What the fuck?"

Out of all of the Ghosts he read about, the worst he recalled was a rare Pokémon known as Yamask. Not much was known about them, except they were rumored to be human beings raised from the grave, their pitiful spirits retaining shattered scraps of mocking memory which alluded to a higher, happier existence they once knew very well. A Creepypasta Lucian found when his age was in single digits espoused the idea that the mask bound to a Yamask's appendage was a representation of their former face, a tearful avatar to remind the Pokémon of their muddled past and human origins.

At such a young age, death had never crossed Lucian's mind before reading about Ghost Pokémon.

Death was a part of life, he realized. The final chapter for everyone, for all living things. Shocking news for most kids. For Lucian, whose father, Red, was never home, such news was enlightening. He realized that in a way, his father was dead.

Now in a man's body, the woodland separating Lucian's home from the millions of people in the slums of the city still proved foreboding. He found himself glad he wasn't alone, and not just because he was terribly forlorn. Traveling anywhere without company, particularly in the form of Pokémon would make anyone uneasy. The longer the Ninetails remained by his side, the more Lucian appreciated his powerful presence. Without him, as well as the private investigators Albina and Einstein, the eccentric young man would not be making this journey.

For a time, Lucian said very little to Albina as they continued their trek. Sure, he had a ton of questions, but he was learning to bottle them up and let them secrete little by little instead of spilling out.

"How you doing back there?" the woman asked suddenly.

Lucian laughed. "I assume… you're talking to… me?" Fuck, he hadn't realized how exhausted he was, nor how out of breath he would sound. Albina must have been surprised too, because her blonde head turned towards him, an odd expression on her face. It struck him suddenly, how blue she looked.

"I am talking to you," she sang merrily, expunging his worry. "You alright way back there? You sound winded."

Inhaling as deeply as he could, he exhaled a gust of candor. "My legs are killing me, but I'm still alive. I don't really get out much."

"Yeah, you told me."

"Any chance Einstein could carry me the rest of the way?" he half-teased. He was kind of being serious.

At that, Albina giggled. "I don't think so," she said in a way that made it obvious she was grinning. "Hey! On a serious note, if we run into any Trainers, do not make eye-contact with them. We on the same page?"

"But of course, Commander," Lucian declared.

"Commander…Um, okay. Great! See, I'd like to avoid battling any Trainers, if that's okay with you?"

"More than okay on my end." Lucian said, sounding upbeat. No way did he want to be engaged in another Pokémon battle. Not now, not ever. For him, it just wasn't in the cards, and he had accepted that fact, as sad and pathetic as it was. Besides, he was far too focused on cultivating something else. A relationship with Albina. By relationship, he meant a friendship, though there was no denying she appealed to his eyes, too. Talking with her was just refreshing. Even though she was part of the investigation, she took his mind off his mother's unknown whereabouts.

Something else proved distracting as well.

Remaining by Lucian's side, for some reason, was undoubtedly the most exquisite creature he could ever have imagined. Slender legs trotted in quick succession and nine swirls danced behind a sleek golden frame. Lucian felt uneasy about it, but he wanted to talk to the Pokémon. He was going to do it; he was going to  _whisper_  to him telepathically.

Until the Ninetails loosened a vicious snarl.

Up the trail a ways ahead, there was a guy riding a bike. Unless somebody moved off the beaten path, the two-wheeled machine was on a collision course with a brick wall named Einstein.  _Maybe,_  Lucian conjured in his mind, _that wall will shatter like glass and Albina will simply shrug and go on a date with me_.

That was a joke. Sort of.

" _Trainer_!" he remarked, underscoring what they had to have already perceived, being several yards ahead of him. " _Trainer_ , Albina there's a  _Trainer dead ahead_!"

"I can see that, yah Zangoose!" Albina's voice rang. She sounded faintly nervous before coming to a halt. When she stopped, so did Einstein. Lucian and Alabaster mimicked in their quake. "Remember what I told you!" she said. "Look away."

"I will, I swear," Lucian replied. "Hope this works. I'm just going to stare innocuously down at my…" He looked around. Leaves? No. Tree bark? Lame. The sun? Ow. Something akin to gravity pulled his eyes down. That's when he saw them. "…Shoelaces," he uttered, staring at them stupidly. "Salutations, shoelaces."

A distracted Albina laughed. "You do that."

Despite a few peculiar noises, Lucian maintained stern lace-contact. He tried to give each string a fair share of stares.

To his momentary disbelief, the shoelaces worked.  _Seeing is believing_ , he thought. He would not doubt their power again.

Thus, their journey continued, uninhibited.

Within minutes, someone else came into view. Another biker, descending down the downwards slope, an exercise Lucian found to be incredibly counterintuitive. What was the point of riding a bike if you didn't have to pedal?

"Look away!" Albina's voice rang.

"Roger that, commander!" Lucian replied. "Vision descending. Shoelaces engaged."

As Lucian's vision studied the strings tied upon his boots he heard the desperate, high-pitched squeal. It came from the guy. The biker. Looking up, Lucian saw the biker pedaling away from the scene as fast as any pair of human legs could operate, pushing himself up the hill like he was in a race to win the Tour de Kalos and they, trudging on foot, were his competition.

"What the hell?" Lucian muttered under his breath.

A short distance ahead, Albina must have heard. Her hourglass figure facing him, she shrugged audaciously, extending her arms at ninety-degree angles as she said, "Must be the power of the shoelaces."

"No doubt," Lucian agreed.

Shoelaces were by no means omnipotent, but apparently his possessed some kind of enchanted power that discouraged Pokémon Battles. A load of Tauros-shit, but what else could explain the deterrence?

The third Trainer they encountered was a female. She was a jogger who could have snuck up behind all of them if not for the clicking of her approaching sneakers and before that, a wary Ninetails who sounded the alarm of her impending presence with a low growl. When she passed Lucian, who was power-walking in the same direction, he watched tentatively out of the corner of his eyes as she decelerated and scuffled up next to him, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. "Hello there, handsome," she said. It wasn't Albina's divine voice, but it was feminine. Lucian's curiosity got the best of him. His eye met her own, two big, chocolate eyes.

"Beautiful, Ninetails you've got there. I envy you." She smirked at him before hitting the gas and jogging out ahead of him. "Later," she called before passing Albina and Einstein. She had two Pokéballs strapped around her waist which jostled lightly as she continued exerting herself, but at least it didn't seem like she was interested in a battle. At least Lucian hoped so. He fucked up.

To his surreptitious chagrin, she must have changed her mind.

After gaining a decent amount of distance on all of them, she stopped abruptly. A concerned Lucian had been diverting his attention, watching her and then switching to what he had been doing before that, which was staring boldfaced at Albina's ass.

She wasn't nearly as enthralling as Albina, but she was pretty all the same. Long legs on display beneath short-shorts, the girl was an athletic brunette wearing a tank top. Stopping, she about-faced and began walking brazenly in the opposite direction. Down the slope right towards them.

Lucian could see her quite clearly above Albina's diminutive stature and blonde hair. A red and white globe grasped in the brunette's left hand, he identified the new smirk on her face as a competitive one.

"Albina," Lucian hissed. "I made eye-contact. I screwed up." He felt embarrassed.

At that very moment, the jogger unleashed a shrill scream before suddenly deciding to resume her exercise, which turned into a ground pounding sprint up the road. "Monster!" he thought he heard her shriek. " _Monster_!"

Lucian's eyes fell to the swirly tails flying next to him. Crimson cinders returned that gaze, forcing violet's to flee from the pain. "Monster," Lucian uttered, staring up the road until the jogger disappeared from view. "Before, she called you beautiful."

"I think she called  _you_  a  _monster_ ," another female voice teased. Red eyes met violet. At least Albina looked about as confused as he did. She shrugged before returning her gaze up the road and for some reason increasing her pace. Skipping. She started skipping. Einstein skipped with her in unison. It was an odd sight.

"Maybe it's your crazy purple hair," Lucian heard the woman call as he broke into a light run to catch up.

"Or maybe it's your crazy scarlet eyes," he shot back, having noticed that her sunglasses were sitting atop her blonde head. "Also, I've got a question…are we in a hurry?"

Albina giggled. "Yup! We've got a long day ahead of us," she shouted, fitting her sunglasses back over her face. "Come on, you purple-haired monster! Catch me if you can!" The blonde broke into a full-fledged sprint that the meathead complemented stride for stride.

In that moment, the notion that the jogger may have seen something behind all of them, something that they were not aware of, that not even Alabaster had detected, some kind of ominous  _animal_  that roamed the forest in the early hours of the morning to prey on unsuspecting bikers, joggers, and young men with long, purple hair. Lucian glanced around, his heart thudding from physical exertion more than anything else.

Behind them there was nothing, nobody there, an empty trail. It was just the four of them. Albina, Einstein, the Ninetails, and himself. Monster? Surely the jogger hadn't confused a monster with an elegant creature like the Ninetails. They were notoriously vindictive through. Maybe that was it.

If Lucian's calves were burning before, now he was pretty sure they had died and gone to hell. As he ran faster than he had in his entire life, the only positive variable he considered was the fact that the slope in the road had receded, flattening into a leveled plane.

The Ninetails suddenly left his side, a flurry of tails twirling in a whirlwind behind unfaltering legs which sustained a nimbler trot.

_Is that the best you can do, human?_

"First Albina, now you!" Lucian shouted. Accepting their challenge, he allowed his bleating lungs to expel a morsel of laughter as he ordered waning legs to caper even faster. Living a life of lethargic, drowsy leisure, he never realized how swiftly they could carry him. Being three inches over six feet probably had something to do with it.

He was catching up to them when all at once, Albina, Einstein, and Alabaster slammed on the breaks.

Up ahead there was fork in the road. Between the two trails lied a grove with small trees and bushes as well as a display of flowers rich with color, reds, oranges, yellows, and blues which bloomed around a large monolith. Lucian used the rectangular structure to stop, his extended hands pushing back as he rammed against the marble.

"Good exercise," Albina said pleasantly.

"I hated it," Lucian tried to joke back. It didn't come out exactly right. He was exhausted. On the other hand, she didn't look the least bit weary. There wasn't a single drop of preparation or sweaty spots anywhere on her scantily-clad body. As Alabaster sat on his haunches next to her, Albina scratched around his triangular ears, something the Pokémon evidently enjoyed. Participating in a staring contest with a tree was the meathead, who had the back of his meaty head to everyone else. Lucian paid Einstein little attention.

From where they were standing, Lucian could discern the heart of Saffron; the jumbled, discordant clamor of traffic on busy streets, the talking, shouting, laughing and anything in between of the city's denizens, whose thousands of feet were thudding abstrusely as were millions of beating hearts, silent to his ears but contributing to the distillation of noise all the same. Lucian wondered if the Ninetails could perceive them.  _He can hear the heart beating inside my chest_ , Lucian knew. He had read about Ninetails quite extensively.

"How many times have you made it this far up the road?" Albina asked Lucian curiously.

"All the way up here?" the young man said, resting his back and shoulders on the marble. Albina nodded. "I dunno," he shrugged. "No more than a dozen times."

"Did you not go to school?"

He shook his head. "My mother homeschooled me for a few years. Taught me the essentials. At the age of five I could read, write, add, subtract, multiply, divide, play the piano…badly, mind you. The piano. My fingers were too small and my feet couldn't reach the pedals. But I could mash on the keys."

Albina giggled, a hand perched above her breasts.

"Everything else I now carry inside my brain," Lucian continued, grinning, "I found reading books, newspaper articles…scouring the web. You know…Reddit."

Albina didn't laugh. Instead, she frowned. "And you've never befriended a Pokémon," she said, her charming voice heavy with woe. "Didn't you have any friends? Human friends?"

Lucian felt wounded. He tried not to look it, to make a big deal of it, but Albina thought otherwise.

"Hey!" she cried, noticing and rushing towards him. "Einstein and I can be your first. We already are. We're your friends."

"I really appreciate that," Lucian said, his hands digging deeply in his pockets as the girl looked at him from behind her sunglasses. "You can't possibly know how much your saying that means to me. Plus, I know my mother is going to be just fine with you on the case. So…now that we're here, where are we heading first?"

Patting him on the shoulder, Albina pointed to the large monolith, a structure which was erected specifically for Pokémon Trainers. Carved in the dark marble were yellowed words, a list of directions.

On the top, the arrow pointed to the left:

 **ß** **Pokémon Center**

**Hospital**

**Poké Mart**

**Silph Co. Headquarters**

**Food Court**

**Pokémon Trainer Fan Club**

**Mr. Psychic's House**

On the bottom, the arrow was pointing to the right:

 **à** **Saffron Gym**

**Fighting Dojo**

**Magnet Train Station**

**Copycat's House**

**Walmart**

**Arcade/Laser Tag**

The Saffron City Gym was close. His mother's place of work was a twenty, maybe fifteen minute brisk-walk away.

"This way," Albina said, pointing to the right. "We're already on the northeastern part of the city. We should visit the Gym first."

Lucian's heart surged. "Thank you!" he cried.

"Of course, Lucian. Can you just do me one favor?"

"Sure anything."

When Albina smirked, Lucian felt his jaw drop. It was an overtly naughty grin. No woman in his entire life had ever granted him something quite that awful, but even for him there was no mistaking it. "See, I feel like I'm flaunting in this thing," she said, shrugging as she glanced down at her garb. Or lack thereof.

Lucian swallowed. "That is not true," he said with so much uncertainty he was pretty sure Einstein, stonewalled and still staring down a tree had suppressed mirth.

Clearing his throat, Lucian managed, "I…like the outfit."

Albina giggled. "As a guy, I'm sure you do," she said, making Lucian's face swelter. "But, I'd like to change into something a little bit more sophisticated."

"Oh!" Lucian said before nodding. "No, I mean yeah, totally understand...wait you're going to do that right now? Right here?" He looked around. For the moment, it was just them.

"Sure," Albina shrugged. "No bikers, no joggers, and no monsters in sight."

Through a bout of laughter, Lucian said "Do you want me to just…?"

"Turn around please."

"I can do that," Lucian said, spinning around.

"Watch the road for me?"

"Standing guard," he declared, facing the direction they had just passed through. "If I see an intruder, I'll holler."

"Einstein will look the other way. Thank you, Lucian."

"But of course, commander."

He could hear her ruffling through items in what had to be the black bag the meathead usually kept at his hip. As far as he could tell, Albina didn't carry a purse.

As much as he wanted to peek, his eyes remained respectful. The Ninetails was probably watching the whole thing, lucky Pokémon.

"How old are you, Lucian?" Albina asked as she undressed.

"Nineteen," he answered.

"Fully grown. Excellent."

"How old are you?"

"I am twenty."

"And you already have eight Gym Badges," he exclaimed, letting himself sound impressed. "Not to mention you're an investigator…if you don't mind my asking, which agency do you work for?"

"The International Police."

Lucian wasn't surprised. In fact, he felt relieved by her answer. The International Police (IP) was well established, though their operations were largely confidential. "I've read about the IP," Lucian said, "which doesn't mean much. You're part of a shadowy group, Albina."

"That I am, Lucian. There is little that I can divulge, as you must realize."

"Must be a harrowing profession," Lucian muttered, suddenly thinking and yearning.

From behind, Lucian heard the rip of a zipper, which was followed by Albina's enrapturing voice. "Do you know what makes life as an investigator worth the constant stress?"

Lucian didn't even have to think. "Being one of the good guys, err gals, solving crimes, catching criminals, being a badass paragon?"

"Not even close, yah silly Zangoose!"

"What was the correct answer?" he asked, itching to know.

Silence ensued, before being broken at last. "It's the fashion." Somehow, Lucian knew that was his cue. He could look. And look he did.

Contrasting dark skin and darker hair, a white dress draped tightly to the fringes of Albina's shoulders, hugging her bosom before falling down her slim waist in pleats. The gown sheathed her arms, legs, and feet, pallid cloth just barely grazing the ground as she walked. When she walked over to him, it seemed more like she was floating.

"You see, Lucian…" the angelic Albina said, running a pair of open hands through the raven tresses slung over one shoulder which was half covered by white and half naked, tanned flesh. "…When you're an investigator, your life becomes a kind of perpetual masquerade. As evinced by your mother's disappearance and probable abduction, there are bad people in this world. Team Rocket, Team Plasma, they are very much alive. And they among others willing to commit crimes must be brought to justice. In this endeavor, camouflage is one of your best friends. Here and now, I would like to extend an invitation to you. Lucian, how would you like to help Einstein, myself, and the entire IP in this investigation?"

The purple-haired young man nodded slowly at first, still dazed and stunned before snapping out of his goggling. In the dim sunlight, it almost looked like she was glowing.

"You are, are you?" Albina asked, a touch of skepticism in her voice as she held her arms together below exposed cleavage. "Ready to do whatever it takes to find your mother?"

"I want to help you," Lucian said confidently. "I can help you! I might not have any hands-on experience…I'm certainly not an expert in your field. But I'm a quick-learner. I'm detail-oriented, erudite, and ethical. Besides, Albina, this is personal. I want to be involved in this. Somebody kidnapped my mother, and I want to help you find her."

When Albina flashed teeth as pasty as her gown, he did his best to keep his eyes glued to the sunglasses sitting on her face. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed.

Despite being out of breath, Lucian had one more comment to add. "You mentioned justice," he said. "Team Rocket, Team Plasma, before I met you I was under the impression they had disbanded. Now I know that isn't true. I want to bring my mother's captors to justice, Albina. I'll do whatever it takes." As that last part rolled down his tongue, he realized it was true.

"Good to hear, you purple-haired monster!"

Lucian laughed as Albina smirked teasingly. "Just remember," she continued, "actions speak louder than words. Now, if you would please follow me. We have a long day ahead of us, so we best get started. As I promised, let's pay the Saffron City Gym a visit first." She turned and began gliding along the path on the right. Einstein, whose bald head had been planted with a black top hat which added on several supplementary inches to his already immense stature, remained staunchly by her side.

In turn, Alabaster stuck by Lucian, who followed Albina in hot pursuit. The young man couldn't stop staring. Not at her ass, but at the intricate tattoo adorning her bared back. He had never been too keen about body art, but the ink on that tanned canvas looked incredible.

Engulfing each shoulder blade and extending far down the rest of her spine was a painted pair of giant black wings.

* * *

**2 Hours Later**

Over the course of the last eight months, the International Police investigator Looker had been inspecting a pandemic of sorts. It was a very curious case impacting multiple regions, from Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh to Unova, Kalos, and Kanto. The pandemic involved the widespread and suspicious disappearances of people and their Pokémon.

Regional governments were keeping the details and flagrancy under wraps. People disappeared all the time. Children, the elderly, and everyone in between. It wasn't exactly a new phenomenon. The Pokémon world was a dangerous place filled with crazy people and wild Pokémon,  _animals_  some labeled the latter.

However, it was the sheer number of unexplainable disappearances which made this case so anomalous. Many of the individuals who had gone missing were still missing. Furthermore, most of them were Pokémon Trainers. Capable Pokémon Trainers.

A slew of incidents in the Kanto region had garnered Looker's current scrutiny. Dozens of Trainers were vanishing in Kanto without a trace. He had been traveling around the region for the better part of a month.

About one month ago, Blaine, the former Gym Leader on Cinnabar Island mysteriously vanished along with his Pokémon and even his wife. His lodge, The Big Riddle Inn, burned down to the ground the very same day, killing over twenty people. Unlike the media, Looker suspected the fire to be the work of an arsonist.

In Fuchsia, Janine had not been seen publically in weeks. When Looker interviewed Koga concerning the matter, the Elite Four Ninja Master explained that his daughter was suffering from an illness, one he did not disclose. He did assure the detective that she was "Going to be fine."

Fair enough.

Just two days ago, Vermilion City's Gym Leader, Lieutenant Surge, had disappeared. Few were concerned. Most thought him to be on some sort of personal quest or a brief sabbatical. By then, Looker had noticed a pattern.

Today, Looker found himself in Saffron because of early reports that Sabrina was not stationed in her Gym. No one was alarmed, though a few Trainers who wished to challenge her were peeved. This type of thing happened regularly enough. Many Gym Leaders took it upon themselves to solve the detrimental and unwanted incidents in their respective city's, criminal or otherwise. Courtesy of extremely well-trained Pokémon, one Gym Leader was usually stronger and more proficient than an entire squad of local police officers and even most International Police (IP) agents. To Looker, this footnote was not to be overlooked. Powerful people were disappearing. Trainers could adequately defend themselves. That went double for Gym Leaders.

Pertaining to Sabrina's current unknown status, Looker hoped it was a false alarm.

Unfortunately, he was currently preoccupied with another matter entirely.  _Or is it connected_? He wondered.

Clutching a clipboard, Looker's pen flickered furiously as he continued composing the report. The investigator wore a cedar-colored trench coat over a brown suit. Graying hair was combed neatly forward to cover up a receding hairline which greatly irked him. He and his Pokémon, a Houndoom, were standing in front of a large monolith erected on the northeastern outskirts of Saffron City.

His Houndoom was named was Hannah. Only three years old, she was rather young to be a Houndoom, having evolved quickly under the relentless care, guidance, and detective work of her Trainer. The two had been through a lot since Looker adopted her. After losing Croagunk, his first partner and a Pokémon who died protecting him, Looker spent many miserable years with Brandy as his only companion.

After a long time, Looker felt ready to return to a life of solving crimes. It's what Croagunk would have wanted.

To rejoin the International Police, the ailed detective needed a new partner. He felt it would be fitting to adopt a Pokémon who really needed it. A rescue Pokémon. Rescue Pokémon were far from scarce. In truth, most people preferred befriending Pokémon without the extra baggage and commitment.

There were thousands Pokémon who had been neglected and abused by humans, some worse than others. Some were saved, survivors placed in overrun shelters. These Pokémon were in desperate need of a new home, as well as someone willing to provide them with love and support. Such individuals also had to be patient.

Hannah was a rescue Pokémon. At first, the once neglected Houndour had been a hard nut for Looker to crack. For many long months, he had to deal with her mood swings and mistrusting attitude. Disobedient of his commands, doubting his resolve, and always whimpering at night, she became more than a fulltime job. Balancing his new detective work and his Pokémon's training made life for Looker more frantic than ever. He didn't mind. He treated her as a case to solve, and for a long time she remained his top priority.

Hannah the Houndoom remained his top priority. And he had become hers.

By now, the two of them were inseparable.

A longtime, inured detective, Looker and his Houndoom found themselves tapped by the local police department the moment they set foot in Saffron City. The Police Commissioner sent the two of them to respond to a morning call she thought might interest him. It pertained to some kind of disturbance in a forested neighborhood on the fringes of the city. One of these calls quickly turned into three. The three individuals who made those calls were with Looker and Hannah now, all of them situated in front of the large, marble monolith. Judging by their testimonies, the three seemed to have experienced a similar and very strange encounter.

"It was coming up this road," one of the two men said, pointing down the long narrow slope. Within one firm hand, he grasped a bicycle. The other held a Pokéball, his knuckles as white as the sclera of his wide eyes. Black pupils skewered the empty road, as well as the dense brush surrounding them. Despite Hannah standing guard at her Master's feet, as well as a Zebstrika who remained beside another witness, this man, a surly biker with a trimmed beard and muscled thighs looked spooked. Compared to the two others witnesses, the biker with the beard looked the least spooked.

"It was heading straight for this spot," the bearded biker continued, muffling the concern in his voice. "It lives inside this forest, stalking the roads. Would strike fear in the heart of any man. Any woman, too, even someone like Sabrina. First thing I did when I saw it was scream like a girl, before hightailing it back up the road."

The female witness spoke next, her eyes shifty, her head pirouetting constantly. "He was tall. Very, very tall. I was doing my early morning jog. Passed right by him. He was about a foot taller than myself, and I've always considered myself pretty tall." She was right about that. Her eyes were on the same plane as Looker's, who stood at six-feet-one.

"Once my legs started moving," the female jogger said, "they didn't stop. I never looked back, but I'm pretty sure he was chasing me. I could hear him behind me, right on my heels."

"Him?" the bearded biker said dully. "That wasn't a he, sweetheart. That was an It. I.T. It."

The jogger shrugged. "Whatever it was, it looked like a man until you saw the face. He was some kind of monster."

"A monster," Looker remarked. He looked down at Hannah, whose nostrils were flaring and red eyes scanning. He patted her on the back, along the elevated bony ridges jutting from her spine. "You mean a Pokémon?" Looker asked. "Could either three of you possibly identify the species?"

"Not any kind I've ever seen," the biker said briskly, "and I've seen my fair share."

The Investigator directed his gaze at the jogger. "What did you say he looked like, Ms.?"

"Tall and ugly," the jogger replied. "With a bald head, gigantic mouth, and long teeth. The moment I saw him I had to look away."

"You all have Pokémon?" the investigator said, giving each of them a hard look. "Why didn't you use them?"

The jogger looked vexed. "Look officer, I was scared for my life, okay? I'll have you know I was scared for my Pokémon's lives, too. If you saw what I did, you would have run. I guarantee it."

Looker wrote that down.

"They looked like tusks," the bearded biker grumbled. "Two long, pointy tusks jutting from the top."

The jogger nodded in agreement. "Like a Piloswine's, except skinnier. And sharper."

Looker glanced up from his notes. "Was he wearing any apparel?"

" _It_ ," the biker said this time emphatically, like it was the crux of the conversation, a key factor they were omitting. " _It_  was wearing a suit."

His testimony on that subject Looker had already jotted down. "I wasn't asking you," the detective said, trying not to sound aggressive. "I was asking her. So, some kind of monster clad in a suit? Is that what he was wearing?"

"That's what I saw too," the jogger said, chagrin creasing her face before returning to wary fright. "I got a pretty good look at him."

"Not him," the biker said again. "It.  _IT_!"

Looker ignored him. The detective was curious if their stories would be synonymous. "What color was the suit, Ms.? And was he wearing a neck tie? If he was, please tell me the color or design."

The woman nodded. "Okay. Um, I remember a black suit with a pink tie in the middle."

That response correlated with the first two witnesses' claims before the jogger joined their peculiar social gathering. On his notebook, Looker checked off "Black Suit" and "Pink Tie."

"Did you see his eyes?" he asked the jogger.

Her eyes widened as she nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

"What color were they?"

She closed her own, as if hunting for a memory banished to the darkest recesses of her mind. Upon finding the intricacies, her eyes fluttered open.

"Bright  _red_ ," she said with discomfort.

" _Red_. You're sure?"

"I'm positive. I doubt I'll ever be able to forget them."

The Investigator underlined and circled "Red Eyes."  _This isn't the first time I've heard something like this_ , he recalled. In fact, this eerie tale was ringing quite a few bells.

Not three weeks ago, Looker briefly investigated a case in Kanto's Cerulean City. A man had been kidnapped there, and to this day he had yet to be found. Another mysterious vanishing. Except this time, there was a witness who allegedly saw the whole thing transpire. Technically, the witness didn't have a front row seat, but a back one.

The witness' story was nothing short of bizarre.

The witness was a kid, a child not yet 8 years old, and he claimed that the man who disappeared had been kidnapped. Except this man, the victim, tried to kidnap the witness first. This older man lured the witness, the small child into his van with promises of meeting and petting cute, furry Pokémon. False pretenses. It turned out there were no Pokémon in the van and the older man was a registered sex offender. Back to his old ways, the pedophile knotted rope around the boy's wrists and ankles before stowing him in the backseat of a van.

That's when the tables were suddenly turned. According to the kid, it was three mysterious Pokémon who saved him. Three Pokémon with Red Eyes. "The Three Red-Eyed Pokémon," the boy said. That's what he had decided to call his heroes.  _The Three Red-Eyed Pokémon_.

As the pedophile tried to drive away with his victim bounded and sitting in the backseat, a Tyranitar with red eyes seized ahold of the vehicle and prevented their escape. The second Pokémon was one the boy could not identify, even after several hours of scrupulous interviewing. The kid said he watched through the window as it ripped the door off its hinges and pulled him safely out of the vehicle, where the third Pokémon, a Ninetails comforted him. The second creature pulled the criminal out too, and according to the child's testimony, it "captured" the sex offender in a Pokéball, much like a Trainer might capture a Pokémon. Considering the devices were not designed to hold human beings, it might have sounded ridiculous, as would the rest of the story.

However, if anything could prop the boy's absurd testimony up, it was the evidence. The police found, impounded, and examined the van. Looker was brought in to scrutinize it as well. Both headlights were shattered and the grill was crushed, along with the front bumper and fenders. The damage led Looker to speculate that the van barreled into something sturdy, like a tree, or a brick wall, or a very large,  _rock_ -solid Pokémon like a Tyranitar. Based on the indentations on the hood and grill, it was feasible that something incredibly powerful lifted the entire vehicle into the air. Most curious of all was the side door, which they found on the crime scene severed from the rest of the van. It had been completely ripped off its hinges.

The boy said the second Pokémon that tore the door off and "captured" the pedophile also had  _Red Eyes_ , as well as enormous black wings which "she," the kid said the mysterious Pokémon was a "she," used to fly.

Evaluating the boy's testimony, the first thing that came to Looker's mind was Cryptozoology. Listening to the testimony of the three witnesses he was currently cross-examining, he highlighted several similarities. Granted, his intuition told him that this "monster" sighting was an elaborate prank.

Something else told him to keep an open mind and search for clues.

"I have a question for the three of you." All eyes honed in on the IP investigator. "Are you certain it was a red-eyed man wearing a suit?"

"Not a man," the biker said rudely. "It. It was an it. IT!"

"Alright. Could  _it_  have been a Pokémon? Perhaps a Tyranitar, one with red eyes?"

The jogger and bearded biker exchanged puzzled looks. For the jogger, hers morphed into mirth. This was the first time Looker had seen any of them smile. "A Tyranitar wearing a suit?" she said stupidly, to augment the innate stupidity of the concept. She began cracking up.

The detective shrugged. "Forgive me," he said, "for asking such an outlandish question. I must have neglected the context. What did you say you saw? A scary monster wearing a pink tie?"

The jogger's laughter ended as soon as Hannah's began. The Houndoom wagged her triangular-tipped tail with glee at her Master's riposte. Looker gave her a well-deserved scratching on her head, fingers rubbing the short black fur right between her horns. She adored that.

Far too professional to stray any farther from the objective, the detective's vision settled on the first witness. Once the other two arrived, this man had grown silent.

"Excuse me," Looker said. "You?" He pointed to him with his pen, the taciturn man standing beside a very vigilant-looking Zebstrika. Like the bearded biker, this man donned cycling apparel, a jersey and tight shorts. Below those shorts, one of his knees was bloodied, an injury he claimed to be the result of panic as he hastily strove to "get away" from "two red-eyed creatures."

"Are you done making your statement?" Looker asked him.

"Not like you believe me anyways, officer," the cyclist shrugged.

Looker frowned. "There are three of you and only one of me. You're in pretty good company. My job is simply to collect information. I assure you, I go to great lengths to remain impartial. I'll ask you again. Is there anything else you would like to say? If there is, I want to add it to my report."

The cyclist's eyes met those of the others before returning to the ground. Inhaling deeply, and refusing to make eye contact, he said, "He wasn't a Tyranitar, but he looked about as big and mean as one. Biggest man I've ever seen."

"It," the other biker said. "It wasn't a man. It was an it!"

The cyclist ignored the meddling as he clung closely against his Pokémon, an open hand running along its zigzagging mane. "I've cycled up and down this trail with Ziggy almost every morning for the last five years," he said, glaring at the ground. "After what I saw this morning, I'm never going to ride through here again."

The Investigator scanned his notes. "You said there were two of them?"

The cyclist's eyes suddenly met the detective's. Speaking with nothing short of candor, he uttered quietly, "Yes, sir. A man and a woman. Both had red eyes. I had mistaken them for two Pokémon Trainers until I got up close and personal. One of them was this hulking thing in a suit. What set me off was the nasty grin he had on his face. Big gums, a few teeth, three I think and no nose. Had hands the size of bowling balls. And the other one…" His voice trailed off.

"The red-eyed woman," Looker said, reviewing his original comments. "A blonde wearing a plaid skirt?"

The cyclist gulped. "Yeah, that's what she was wearing. She…she also had this, this tongue. A really long tongue. And she wanted to eat me. Both of them. They wanted to eat me for breakfast." His eyes fell down to the ground once more, as if recounting the experience was humiliating.

Looker scribbled that down. All of it. "Two more questions for the three of you," he said. "First, you agree there were two creatures with red eyes?"

Everyone nodded save for the biker with the beard. "I didn't see this lass with blonde hair," he said. "Just It."

"Alright," Looker said. "But the two of you," his eyes swathed over the cyclist and the jogger, "remember the blonde? A  _female_  with red eyes?"

They both nodded their heads in affirmation.

"Last inquiry," Looker said. "Was there anyone else with them? Another Pokémon, perhaps? One with red eyes?" He glanced around at the witnesses, whose tense expressions remained the same except for the jogger's. "Wait!" she cried, her brown eyes twinkling. "Yes, yes I remember someone else." The biker and the cyclist looked at her with grave interest, as did Looker.

"I came up behind him," she said. "I was running, going a lot faster than he was. I passed him first, a guy, and then ran further up the road and passed the monster."

"Alright," Looker said, a bit perplexed by the picture she was painting. "Let me make sure I understand. You were running up the road? Correct?" She nodded. "Up the road which was the direction the monster was heading?" At that, all three of them nodded.

"Right where we're standing," the bearded biker said for about fifth time, like he was expecting what he saw to show up at any second.

Looker's attention didn't falter. His eyes and focus remained on the jogger. "So you were running up this road, moving in same direction as the monster and the woman, and you passed someone else first. A man?"

The jogger fastened her eyes shut once more. "Yes," she said, reminiscing. "He was behind them. Walking behind the monster."

"How far was he walking behind the monster and the red-eyed woman?"

"Not that far behind," she said, in obvious discomfort as she forced her vision to remain shut. "Thirty feet. Twenty, maybe."

"Sounds to me like this gentleman was accompanying them," Looker said, deep in thought as he gnawed on his pen. He was far too distracted by this admission to even begin scribbling it down on paper. "Do you remember what he looked like? The man?"

"Yeah, "the jogger said. "Tall. Taller than me, but not as much as the monster." Despite palpable fear, her downtrodden lips curled into a little grin. "Cute guy. Very cute."

Looker frowned. Cute wasn't going to cut it. "Do you remember what he was wearing?"

The woman's temples creased, eyes bolted shut. "I…I don't remember," she said at last. "I'm not for sure. Pants and a shirt, both a bright color. Green, I think. Or Red. Maybe yellow?"

The detective shook his head. "Scratch that. What did he look like? Any distinctive features? Hair, eye-color?"

The woman pouted. "Hmmm…well the guy had long, straight, purple hair…"

Looker almost dropped his pen. And his clipboard. "Purple hair," he said. "That's…uh…" He smiled at the jogger, even though with her eyes closed she couldn't see it. "Now that's what I call distinctive, Ms.," he said, sounding impressed, and meaning it too. "Purple hair. Long purple hair. Anything else? Eye color, maybe?"

She shook her head. "I can't remember his eyes. Oh, but he did have a Pokémon with him!"

"What do you mean?"

"It was right beside him, walking with him."

"Did he? Do you remember the species?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah, it was a very beautiful Pokémon he had with him. A Ninetails."

Looker coughed. He couldn't help it. When he did, the jogger's eyes sprang open.

"Was it something I said?" she asked.

"Nothing to worry about," the detective told her, clearing his throat as he glanced down at his notes. Concerning the most important details and this newest revelation, they were desolate. Everything the jogger had just relayed to him had yet to be engraved on parchment. It didn't matter. It was etched inside his head, and it wasn't going anywhere.

After Looker thanked them for their testimonies, the three witnesses departed, an aura of worry, fright, and confusion surrounding them.

In contrast, Looker was thrilled.

 _The Three Red-Eyed Pokémon_. That was the title a little boy had bestowed upon his heroes. Ninetails had red eyes. A Ninetails was one of the Pokémon the boy said rescused him. The other two being a Tyranitar and an unidentified, flying creature, both of whom had red eyes.

This monster had Red Eyes. The blonde woman had them, too.

Three sets of Red Eyes.

Looker wanted answers. All he had to do was find a man with long purple hair who owned a Ninetails.

And he knew exactly where to look.

Saffron City.

"Come on girl," the detective said to his Houndoom, "you and I have work to do."

* * *

**16 Hours Later**

When Desiree opened her eyes, the sky was pitch black save for a meek sliver of silver. Not a single star twinkled in that barren, blackened, blasé wasteland. Studying the dark and discerning absolutely nothing reminded the Gardevoir of her estranged Shiny Sister, Albina. Likewise, the moon reminded her of Albina. Both Shiny Sisters had an affinity to the moon, though for Albina the power of their sky-mother was a double-edged sword.

Desiree shuffled around uncomfortably in her bed of soggy leaves, surrounded on both sides by the rigid metal of a rain gutter. Space was very limited. For her narrow shoulders, it was a perfect fit. The same could not be said for her head. The longest spike jutting from each of her cheeks prodded against cold copper. In her arms and against her breasts, she cradled her knapsack, which contained everything she owned.

Desiree closed her eyes again. She wasn't tired, she just didn't want to do what she was supposed to do. What her Shiny Sister asked of her. She should just get it over with.  _Just a few more minutes_ , she thought, trying to get comfortable. Shivering, she pulled the purple blanket up higher so it covered her shoulders. Ice swam through her veins, but there was a lingering heat somewhere, too. The warmth came from the purple blanket, which extended past her gown.

Finding the hum of her light breathing so very relaxing, her roaming thoughts churned more dreams.

He had purple hair and violet eyes, and he was kind and affectionate and warm, very warm lying there on top of her. When he smiled at her, she blushed.

Suddenly his eyes closed, and his face began to inch towards her own.

 _He's going to kiss me_ , she thought,  _and for once, I think I'm going to kiss back._

Suddenly his eyes opened. And they were no longer purple. Neither was his hair.

Stiff lips found her neck. A firm hand clung to her shoulder. His other hand ran up her legs.

The Gardevoir wanted to scream, but thought better of it. She didn't cry either. She held back the tears until he was done.

The world faded back to black.

"This is him, is it not?" That voice was light, faint, yet overwhelming all the same. It belonged to her Dark sister, Albina.

The man's great weight departed. He was no longer on top of her. He was sitting upright on a tattered couch in a dark room littered with trash, liquor bottles, powdery crystals and pills. Six years had passed since he forced her as a Kirlia, yet twenty years of age had corrugated his face. She almost didn't recognize him.

His Skuntank lay sprawled on the ground, crimson streaks staining furry tan stripes. Against a Tyranitar of immense power, Skuntank lasted mere seconds before being Bulldozed into unconsciousness.

Crinkled human cheeks were wet with tears as colossal paws perched on each shoulder. Erect behind the human was a spikey green mountain, which those paws belonged to. The mountain's open jaws were like a combination faucet and hairdryer, slobber dripping in thin globs onto the man's mop of hair and loud, beastly grunts gusting and whiplashing those soaked curls and tresses. There was no escaping Einstein's clasp, not when the Ditto was wearing Wrath's green leviathan of a body.

"Well, sister?" Albina said, red eyes meeting orange. "Is this him? One of your former Trainers? A rotten human who hurt you?"

The Gardevoir managed a, "Yes," before expelling several coughs. Even with the cracks and the sores, there was no mistaking that human's face. The human face of a monster. One of her monsters. This monster captured her when she was a 12-year-old Ralts. He was her original Trainer. Back then, when she was his property, she was not nearly as strong as she was now.

When the Gardevoir finally summoned the courage to tell her sister some of what happened before she was taken to The Big Riddle Inn, Albina insisted on finding this human and paying him a visit.

"Don't kill me," the monster pled, mauling at his tearful cheeks. His gleaming eyes met Desiree's, who cringed every second he stared in her direction. Above all else, there was no forgetting those eyes. The gray eyes of a monster.

"I regret everything I did to you, Desiree," the monster sobbed. "Every single day…I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can't fucking live with myself. Look around...I'm already dead."

Albina giggled. "We're not going to kill you," she assured him. "Oh  _no_! No, no,  _NO_! You hurt my sister. Your punishment must be more severe. I'm going to put you in a place where you'll have to live with yourself. A place without booze, without drugs, without a way to forget. A prison where there is no escape." In one of her claws she held a Pokéball. The Pokéball with the monster's name on it.

"Love, hold that filth up for me," Albina ordered, red eyes mirroring those of the green mountain.

Einstein roared in approbation, causing the Gardevoir to jump. " **TYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!** " That earth-shattering bellow also shook the monster, scaring him into a screaming, squirming frenzy which he sustained as the Tyranitar hoisted him high into the air, gargantuan paws clasped around noodle-looking arms and all but consuming both shoulders.

"Please, don't," the monster moaned. "Please, stop," the monster sobbed.

Albina licked her lips. "Is there anything special you would like to do to him?" she asked Desiree. Timid orange eyes brushed against vivid reds. "Anything you want, anything at all, my dear sister? You could use your mind-control. Make him punch himself really hard in the face a couple times. Or sodomize him with his own fist. That would be funny. Or maybe something really messy?"

Desiree's big Gardevoir eyes returned to the blubbering monster.

 _Anything I want_? She tested herself.  _What do I want?_ She shined her Light on the monster, looking at his mind through a dim window. Beyond the window, she saw a trash bin filled with horrors and regrets. Largely apathetic regrets. She saw the monster's terrible deeds. His cravings. And his creators, the monsters who molded him into the monster he had become. There was the drunken father who beat him as a child and the mother who watched and sometimes participated in those beatings.

The monster's very life was an accident. For his parents, that life was an unwanted accident.

 _How should I feel_? She knew she didn't feel sorry for the monster. No remorse. But was there anything else? No, there wasn't anything. Not even anger.  _I feel nothing_ , she admitted silently.  _I'm numb_.  _Hollow, kind of like him. I don't want anything._ Her vision fell to the glass table, where there was an assortment of pill bottles.

"Let go of me!" the monster wailed, still trying to wiggle free. His emphatic screaming and shifting only caused colossal paws to clasp down harder than ever. Albina approached him, standing between the monster and the table. Only then did his wiggling cease, eyes wide and white as Albina spoke.

"Well Desiree, my dear? What will it be?"

"Gist…cu-capt-chure him," Desiree said. She coughed painfully, her throat throbbing at the inundation of human speech.

Albina's raven-haired head turned. "Hey, you alright beautiful?" she asked worriedly.

The Gardevoir nodded curtly.

Returning her visual attention to the monster but still speaking to her sister, Albina said, "Is there anything  _you_  want  _me_  to do to him? I will do what you cannot. Whatever you want. Your Shiny Sister will masticate his arm, if you ask." She grinned, flashing triangular, razor-sharp teeth which made the monster gasp. That grin widened.

In front of the monster's face, the anemic talons tipping Albina's fingers protracted to their full 8-inch length. "Or gouge his eyes out," she said. Long claws caressed the monster's wet hair, the face below the mop growing paler by each passing second.

"What are you doing?" he uttered as the bladed edges of an index and middle-finger jabbed at his damped cheeks, just below the ducts. "Stop!" he wailed before wincing as the blades punctured skin. Two red drops streaked down each cheek, like crimson tears.

"All you need do is ask, my sister," Albina said. "Whatever you want. I'll take care of it."

At that point, the monster screamed louder than ever. "You're a monster!" he shrieked. "All of you! You're all a bunch of monsters!" His eyes met the Gardevoir's gaze, gray touching orange. "You're a monster, too!" he yelled at her.

An epiphany crashed through Desiree's window. Glass shattered everywhere, sharp shards of reality falling below her gown and floating feet. The monster accused her of being a monster.

 _You're not a monster,_ Desiree told herself. But suddenly, she felt uncertain. _Or am I? Apathetic, unfeeling, hollow…A monster…kind of like him._  At that possibility, a tear slithered down her cheek. Slapping at the tear with a  _smack_ , Desiree thrust both orange eyes shut to stave off another.

"What will it be?" Albina's voice rang.

Desiree's eyes opened. Fiery reds greeted hers, only to be doused when the Gardevoir shook her head.

"Awwww," Albina sighed. "Nothing…Where's the fun in that? Fine, fine. As you wish, my dear Desiree. As you wish."

The Gardevoir wondered if her sister's great white smile, which crinkled into a disappointed frown, belonged to that of a monster.

Suddenly, that smile returned in full force, only to be followed by laugher. Not Albina's usual string of giggles. It was a deep, guttural explosion that drowned out the human monster's wailing sobs until a dark light sucked him, his body, clothes, screams, everything inside a Pokéball.

" **In this cage,** " she reverberated to the monster trapped inside his new home, **"you shall rot! Consider yourself lucky my sister is so very merciful. If it were up to me, rotten human, I would have made you beg for death's embrace. But in time, you will. Oh yes…you will! Teeheehee-hahahaha!** "

After the monster and his Skuntank were "captured" in Pokéballs and secured in Einsein's black bag, the Dark sister treated the Gardevoir to an influx of emotion.  _Are we monsters?_ The Gardevoir wondered as Albina threw her arms around her. Pokémon. Pocket Monsters. Inhuman. Caged.

The Tyranitar approached with stomping,  **BOOMING**  feet. The Gardevoir wasn't afraid of him. She had never been afraid of Einstein. Long ago her Light had brightened the darkest corners of his mind, revealing his kind heart, a gentle nature sullied yet still clinging, breathing. The green mountain hugged both Shiny Sisters tenderly, pulling their small frames close against his rigid body.

"Well that was fun," Albina said. "It could have been more fun…BUT! I enjoyed it nonetheless." She did sound happy. At least, Desiree thought so, but she wasn't sure. Suddenly, she wanted to ask her something.

"Siss-isster?"

"What is it beautiful?" Albina said, still sounding happy. She had been focused on Einstein, but granted the Gardevoir a sidelong glance.

Summoning a deep breath and a bout of courage, she asked, "Are we mun…mon-sters?"

"We…us? You, me, Einstein…for rotten human's we are. Sure. Together, Einstein and I are their worst fucking nightmare, let me tell you." Lips contorted into a smug smile. "Since joining the Legion, I've captured ninety-three humans. Seven more and that will make one-hundred. You know, you should tag along with us more often, instead of being such a loner. Psychic, Fairy, Dark, Einstein's entire arsenal. Nobody could touch us. Nobody!" Red eyes widened. "Hey! Are you crying?"

The Gardevoir turned away, but the moment she did Albina grabbed her by the shoulder and flung her around. "You are crying!" Albina exclaimed, bits and pieces of elation in her voice. A hard, clawed hand pressed against Desiree's face, below her three spikes. Rough fingers meshed through curls of her blue hair while a thumb slid slowly across her soft cheek, on a collision course with the teardrop. As the thumb neared its destination, Desiree could only watch timidly as the jagged white blade swept over her eye.

Albina swiped the tear from Desiree's face and brought it up to pink lips for inspection. A long tongue shot out to taste the gleam. Creases on Albina's forehead formed as eyes without eyebrows narrowed. "A sad tear. Why do you feel sad?"

"Mon-ster," the Gardevoir whispered. "He caw-ed us mu-mon-sters."

"What?" Albina scowled. "Oh, I get it. You let that rotten human affect you. They are deceivers. Filthy scum. They're the real monsters. Not us, not really. He hurt you first. An eye for an eye, okay? You shouldn't feel sad my dear."

Desiree's flooded eyes widened. "H-howl…should I fe-feel?"

Albina appeared taken aback by that question. "I don't…know," she said at last. "Happy, I would think." She frowned. "I helped you get revenge. This was for you, all for you. Doesn't that mean something?"

Desiree swallowed painfully. "Do yew feel ha-happy?"

"Happy." Albina repeated. "Me?" Red eyes glowed above a dropped jaw. Two rows of white fangs shone above a stark white dress while the rest of Albina's charred outline blended in with a prevailing dark. She turned away suddenly and marched to the couch, glaring at it for a few seconds before plopping down on the cushion. Einstein stomped over towards her, but she shooed him away with a claw. Then, red eyes closed.

Desiree's heart sank. "Sis-ter…I di-dent mean t–"

"No, I am not happy," Albina interrupted, dissatisfaction mounting. "Of course I am  _not_  happy. Next month, perhaps I will salvage some satisfaction. You see, Einstein and I are going on a little…excursion. Ally is coming along with us. We're going to Kanto, and we're going to hunt a few old friends. Blaine, Surge, Sabrina, Koga. Do you remember them?" She forced a grin, eyes still shut, a response from Desiree entirely null. "How could we forget? Anyways, I was going to extend to you an invitation to come with us, but apparently you still don't give a fuck about justice. Or about your brother and your sister who try so very hard to love you."

Albina's eyes opened when the Gardevoir began sobbing. "That's not ter-rue," the latter said between soft moans.

"After everything I do for you," the Dark sister said, reaching into her black bag, claws digging around. From that crypt which contained a great many obscured things, she pulled out two thick stacks of cash. "Your allowance," she said, tossing it on the floor in front of the Gardevoir, who just stood there, crying.

"I wonder what you do with this money," Albina said coldly before rising from the couch and directing her gaze towards the green mountain. "Einstein, transform. We're leaving." The mountain blemished pink before melting rapidly. Albina turned back to Desiree. "Maybe next time, you will show us a little bit of gratitude when we try to help you."

Einstein, now a ditto, began sculpting his own creation. His magnum opus. A tall, brawny human with an overtly handsome face and shaved head. He got dressed, choosing to wear his normal attire, a monochromatic black suit with a pink tie.

"Maybe next time," Albina said before she and the Ditto left, "you'll learn to have a little bit of fun instead of ruining it for everyone else."

After they left, minutes rolled by before the Gardevoir dropped to her knees and retrieved the stacks of cash. It was 200K. She put them in her knapsack.

Then, she limped to the bathroom. There she ripped off a length of toilet paper as long as her arm and used it to wipe her welling eyes. She didn't want to cry. Tears hurt. Summoning painful memories hurt. Reflecting on what just transpired hurt.

What hurt the most was knowing she had nothing, no one to comfort her.

At the sink, she washed her face off. The hot water gave her a warm feeling, though fleeting. She let the hot water run on her hands while staring at her pale face in the mirror for what felt like the longest time.

Exiting the bathroom, she immediately returned to the living room and sat down on the couch.

Fun, Albina had said. Desiree wasn't sure she understood the meaning of the word.

Swollen eyes fell to the pills scattered on the glass table.

Her eyes fluttered open as she returned to the present. To reality. This time, they would stay that way.

"Fu-fuck," she muttered under her breath, bolting upright. The sky was blue. The sky was fucking blue!

As she peeled through the items in her knapsack, searching for her Holo Caster, she shivered. Bathing all night in a soggy gutter, her arms were ransacked with goosebumps. Her silvery gown was soaked, the slender legs underneath chilled to the bone. Despite the beating sun overhead, Desiree couldn't stop shivering. The Stirring's conjured purple blanket was a lie, warm deceit covering the onset of mild hypothermia.

 _Fuck my fucking ass_ , she screamed inside her head. It was almost 8:48 a.m. The next day. Albina had originally called over 24 hours ago, asking her to take the Magnet Train to Saffron and manipulate some human. The Gardevoir was supposed to arrive there sometime yesterday, but she had fallen asleep and stayed that way for far too fucking long.

There were eleven missed calls, all from Albina. Four voice mails, too. The Gardevoir didn't dare listen to them. But she did read the five text messages. Also all from Albina. The first two were from yesterday.

**_Albina – 4:33 p.m._ **

"Hey! I wanted to thank you again for promising to help Einstein and me. It means so very much to us, your loving brother and sister. I want you to meet us inside the Saffron Magnet Train Station tonight. Just text me when you arrive and we will be right over. It should be easy enough to find Einstein and Alabaster with your Light. My beloved will be wearing his chosen face. He and Ally can't wait to see you! Hey! If you haven't boarded yet, when r u planning to ride the shuttle?

Be careful. Much love, Albina."

**_Albina – 8:23 p.m._ **

"I've tried calling you, but you didn't pick up. I hope you're on the shuttle as I type this. Please call me back asap. You're not going to believe what I've discovered. It pertains to this extraordinary human. And about you, my dear Desiree. It is so very delicious. Call me asap. I'm waiting.

Love, Albina"

The final three texts were from this morning.

**_Albina – 12:00 a.m._ **

There's good news and bad news. The good news is Alabaster convinced the human to become a Pokémon Trainer. That's one less task for you. The bad news is you're not here. Where are you? I'm waiting."

**_Albina – 3:00 a.m._ **

"Are you high you junkie cunt? Or maybe you're sedated. Or maybe you're lying in a ditch somewhere. You can't even fathom how favorable this opportunity is for you. Call me so I can explain. I'm trying to help you."

**_Albina – 6:00 a.m._ **

"I guess you don't care about me. After everything we've been through, after everything I've done for you, you dare provoke my ire?"

Desiree's fin began pounding, the consequence of guilt and fear. Mostly guilt, she thought. She hoped. Being on Albina's bad side was not a place she wanted to be either. She immediately prepared a message.

**_Desiree – 8:56 a.m._ **

"I am so sorry! Not on drugs, I swear. I just fell asleep, so sorry. I want to show you I care. I'm about to board the train, I promise. Where can I meet you?"

When she hit the send button, she exhaled deeply. It didn't take long for her Holo Caster to buzz.

**_Albina – 9:04 a.m._**

"If you are leaving right now, you should arrive in Saffron before noon. Meet us in the Train Station by that time and all will be forgiven. Be safe and good luck."

Desiree's fin rattled in her chest. Albina had to be pissed. Plus, she now had a deadline.

Getting to Golden Rod's Magnet Train Station wasn't easy. It was the morning. Rush hour mixed with broad daylight, a bad combination which necessitated extreme caution and stealth. Of course, if there was anything Desiree was truly gifted in, it was stealth.

Getting to the Train Station in Golden Rod city wasn't easy, but it was the easier part. If things were going to get dicey, it would be aboard the train.

Usually when she took the shuttle, the Gardevoir did it either in the early afternoon or late at night. Less humans meant less obstacles. She would slip in unnoticed and find a hiding spot, a nook somewhere like underneath a seat where she would simply wait for her stop.

During rush hour, this strategy proved impractical. There was nowhere to hide discreetly. On the contrary, she had to hide in plain sight.

There was not an abundance of seats on each metro car. Additional seats would take up too much space. In lieu of seats was ample standing space. Rigid metal bars hung from the top and silvery poles stood like trees, provisions for passengers to grasp.

Traffic was heavy in the mornings. Humans, every single one, clutching onto the bars overhead, grasping the metal poles, and a lucky few spilled on coveted seats.

Humans galore. Except for one Shiny Gardevoir.

Most humans towered over Desiree like skyscrapers cloaked in flesh. Despite her diminutive stature, her long fingers could touch the horizontal bars overhead. Instead, she clung to a pole, her blue hand a tiny three-pronged club contrasting all the rest, human hands, five-fingered and much bigger and stronger.

Out of all of them, though, her hand held on the tightest.

Gravity had no effect on her body, thanks to an innate ability to levitate. She floated a few inches in the air, her mind focused, her body tense as she listened to human speech while concurrently browsing the cadence of thoughts, her Light shining through dozens of dim windows.

She held onto the pole purely for psychological security, like at any moment someone might grab ahold of her and try to wrench her away. If that did happen, she would defend herself. She had done it before. Once a little Ralts, she had grown into a very powerful Gardevoir.

She hoped they would leave her be. She loathed violence. It's part of why she loathed humans. Violence was their vocation and Pokémon their tools for administering it.

Everyone around her stared in her direction unabashedly. Muffled chatter, cheery laughter, and impressed banter. The only thing that drowned out the crowd was the fast pace of her fin-beat.

She tried not to look afraid as she exercised her acting skills.

Desiree had to play the part of a Shiny Pokémon riding the Magnet Train station with her human owner somewhere nearby.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

"A Shiny Gardevoir!"

"No shit! Look at her! Now that's a beautiful Pokémon."

"True, true. That hue. Sparkly and blue.

Buoyant laughter stampeded all around.

"Very poetic, Ed."

"Thanks man."

"Wasn't a compliment."

"It was to me. Semantics, bro."

"Guys, seriously shut up for a sec. Who in their right mind would just let this thing walk around on its own?"

"Planning on pinching her, Brad?"

"Nah, just curious." Brad began asking around, searching for the identity of the "Shiny's Master."

Shifting eyes and shaking heads.

"Nobody, it would seem," Ed stressed. "Interesting."

"Shiny Pokémon are worth a fortune," Brad continued. "Imagine the price she would fetch."

"I hear yah, bro," Ed replied. "A Gardevoir at that. Like an ocean wrapped in a tight package. She'd win the Pokémon Beauty Contest every year for ten years straight."

"Who could possibly be her Master?"

"Not a clue."

"Dumbass if you ask me."

"Ostentatious, more like it," Ed countered, pronouncing the last syllable in 'Ostentatious' like, 'Shass.'

Desiree's fin pounded in her chest. The train was already in Kanto. They had to be close to Saffron. She needed to check the time. One hand grasped the metal rod, the other her knapsack. Neither hand was necessary to check the time. Using telekinesis, she peeled open the bag and rummaged through a few items, her syringe, bottle of Stirring, and pocket knife before spotting her Holo Caster. Somehow, her shoelace had tied itself around the little device. After unknotting the red string, the light from her Holo Caster emanated below. Glancing down, the chubby numbers said it was "11:27 a.m."

If she didn't make the 12:00 noon deadline to Saffron, there was no telling what Albina might do. She couldn't read her mind. Because of that fact, long had her Dark Sister frightened the Gardevoir. But before that, she needed to survive the train-ride.

She was too short to see over anyone's heads, but she could levitate herself up a bit to take a look out the windows. Just too see the train's geographical location. Just a peek.

Using her mind, she propelled her body straight up so her eyes could see over fleshy hills. Shit. There was nothing but blackness beyond the seemingly unending array of large, rectangular windows on both sides of the train. They were in a tunnel. Probably in Diglett's Cave. If that was the case, they were close to Saffron.

Ever so slowly, she floated back down, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.

Suddenly, a finger thumped her across the shoulder.

The Gardevoir whirled around where she was greeted with four smiling faces, long noses pointing left and right but all eyes leering down at her. Three male humans and one female.

Her eyes honed in on Brad, a man with a buzz cut and tank top which exhibited two hairy armpits. Gangly, tattooed arms extended upwards, where large hands gripped the top bars.

"What?" Brad said, still giving her a sidelong glare. "It wasn't me boo!"

" _I know it was you_ ," Desiree whispered.

"No really it wasn't…" One of his hands swooped down to cover his mouth as he expelled a fit of laughter. "You're Psychic, aren't you?"

" _No shit, Sherlock."_

"You're inside my head," he said through a yellow-toothed grin.  _I wouldn't mind being inside her,_ Desiree overheard him thinking. Her grip on the metal pole tightened.

" _Please just leave me alone,_ " she said telepathically.

"Just curious, Miss Shiny Gardevoir," Ed said. One of Brad's friends, this human wore a bandana, a black leather jacket, and had a woman's hand wrapped around his arm. "Are you a wild Pokémon, by any chance?" he asked.

Desiree appeared very calm and serious as she whispered to three of the four humans simultaneously, Brad, Ed, and the woman next to Ed, Rosanne. " _See the guy wearing the red cap?"_

Brad scrunched his lips as he craned his neck, his eyes scrutinizing. Rosanne, Ed's fiancée, had black fingernails which matched his leather jacket. She searched as well. "Yeah I see him," Rosanne said. "See him, Eddie?" A bandana arose as Ed stood on his tiptoes.

"I see him, Rosy," Ed said. "Big fella."

"Yep," Rosanne said.

 _"That's my Master you morons,"_ Desiree whispered to the three of them. _"His name is Jake, and he will kick your ass if you touch me again. So, to answer your question, Edward, no, I am not wild."_

Brad erupted into hilarity, shaking his head and eyeing his friends who looked equally amused.

"You look wild," Rosanne said with a skeptical expression as she looked the Gardevoir up and down. "The lip stud, the bad attitude, your purple bag."

"What's in the bag?" Ed asked. "You running off somewhere, Shiny?"

Desiree was about to answer when Bill, another one of their clique, inserted himself in the conversation.

"What the hellz going on?" he asked. Out of all of them, Bill was the only one out of the loop. Desiree hadn't included him in their telepathic conversation, hoping to keep interactions to a minimum.

"This Shiny little tramp here is smack talking us," Brad said.

"Smack talk," Bill said. "I didn't hear her saying nuthin'."

"Nah man, she's inside our head."

"You know," Ed shrugged, "ESP. She's got a Master, so she claims. But I have my doubts."

"Claims it's that guy over there." Brad said, pointing to Jake. "Tall nigga in the red cap. Nice cap actually. Vintage."

"Hey Shiny Gardevoir," Bill said, looking rather glum. "I wanna hear your ESP, too."

" _Hi,_ " Desiree relented to him telepathically, which caused Bill to throw his hands up in elation.

"Cool!"

"What I don't get," Ed said as he played with his fiancée's hand, "is why our Shiny friend is over here while her Master is way over there."

The reasoning behind this was simple. Desiree couldn't risk pretending a human standing right next to her was her Trainer. A few seconds of probing, a complimentary address or envious rantings to said quasi-Trainer and interlopers would quickly realize she was in fact a wild Pokémon. All she could do was hope the threat of her quasi-Trainer, the large, burly human by the name of Jake would suffice as a deterrent to further suspicion. Above all else, she hoped they wouldn't try to talk to him.

She rummaged through their thoughts, one at a time, picking through the mire like pages of tomes. Brad, Ed, and Bill were three longtime friends who listened to punk music and enjoyed drinking beer. Brad, a fan of tattoos and piercings, was a carpenter who at that very moment really, really liked the Gardevoir's lip stud. Bill was a taxi driver who hated his job and spent as much free time as he could with his two closest friends. Ed and Rosanne were recently engaged, two music artists whose proximate professional lives grew into a romantic relationship. Together, they were expecting a child. Rosanne was heavily pregnant.

The four humans were hesitant. But the lot of them was also a cocky bunch. All Desiree could do was hope they would leave her alone.

"Isn't your Master worried about you?" Brad asked.

"What if something bad happened?" Ed added, the two building off each other.

All at once, a clump of large, hard fingers grabbed Desiree by the back of the arm, easily tearing her grip off of the metal rod. Her eyes widened. Her fin pounded. She loosened a tiny squeal which caused the human behind her to chuckle.

Humans. So very unpredictable.

Bradley had her by the arm, his grip unyielding. Reading his mind the Gardevoir could see that he had no intentions of letting go.

She tried convincing him through a whisper. Communicating with all of them, Brad, Ed, Rosanne, and Bill. " _Let me go, Bradley. I don't want any trouble from any of you. Just leave me alone, or else I'll call Jake over here."_

"Oh really?" Brad said. "See, we don't think you have a Master, boo. Which makes you a wild Pokémon. Which means…" He unclipped a Pokéball from his belt and held it there in his hand. "Hey, Jake!" he called, his eyes lighting up.

At the sound of his name, Jake's head turned. Through the wall of lofty human's Desiree couldn't see that fact, but she could sense the others had garnered his attention. Her fin felt scrambled.

Cupping one hand around his mouth to amplify his voice, Brad shouted, "Jake, buddy, can yah hear me?"

"Do I know you?" Jake asked.

"Not yet. Nice hat bud!"

"Thanks…" Jake said.

"Fan of Red?"

"Diehard fan," Jake answered through a modicum of laughter. "I've been a loyal follower of him and his Pikachu since I was a kid."

Ed entered the conversation. "Not much to follow. Red and Pikachu are ancient history bro. One and done. Out of the equation."

Jake laughed again. "He'll be back, just you wait. Beast fans, I take it?"

"Beast is the truth," Rosanne pronounced, causing her fiancé to hug her against his chest affectionately. They were both fanatical Beast groupies. Beast was a rising star in the Battling Arena, a Pokémon Master who had just won his second Championship Title.

"I guarantee Beast is coming here to Kanto," Ed chimed back in, "to take on the Indigo League."

"No doubt," Jake replied agreeably. "He's already a legend."

"He's going to crush them," Ed declared. "I guarantee that too. A third Title will put him up there with Cynthia."

"True, true."

"Yo, Jake!" Brad cried.

"Uh, yeah man?"

Brad leered down at Desiree before his vision ascended. "I just wanted express to you how beautiful your Shiny Gardevoir looks. A real jaw-dropper, this one."

"Shiny Gardevoir?" Jake said in bewilderment.

"Yeah, the Shiny Gardevoir standing right here in front of us. She told us you're her Master. You're a lucky guy. Before today, I had never even seen a Shiny."

"Shiny Gardevoir," Jake repeated. "Are you serious? Where? Let me see!"

More heads turned. A cacophony of gasps echoed. Brad's clasp around her wrist strengthened.

"I knew it," Ed said, his voice rising above the commotion. "A wild Pokémon trying to hitch a ride on public transportation and pretending she's something she's not. And a Shiny one at that. Very crafty Miss Shiny Gardevoir. Too bad we saw through your little ruse."

"You're coming with us, boo," Brad said, cocking his other arm back, a tattooed appendage with a Pokéball enclosed in the palm. A Pokéball with Desiree's name on it. "Stand back lady and gentlemen," he grinned to his peers. "I got her."

Desiree read his mind. He was going to do it. He was going to chuck that spherical device right at her face. Such was the life of being a Pokémon existing in a world ruled by supremacist humans. She was just as smart as them. She even looked like them, two veiny arms, two trembling legs, two wide eyes, and quivering lips.

Some human scientists promoted a theory called, "Evolution." Evolution acknowledged the similarities between certain bipedal Pokémon and human beings and surmised that they each had a common ancestor. A human ancestor. Moreover, according to Evolution, humanoid Pokémon such as Gardevoir were directly related to humans.

It didn't matter. Pokémon were not human. Something else. Born of less value. Subhuman. An object to be possessed. A tool designed to submit.

" _I am not going to be caged,_ " Desiree's whispered to them, all of them.  _Never again. I refuse_!

Instinct took over.

The wad of thick fingers fastened around her arm unclasped, ricocheting towards a face.

When Brad's fist smashed into Ed's eye, Rosanne screamed. Brad and Ed screamed too, the latter tumbling backwards and falling flat on his ass, his fiancée almost going down with him. "What the fuck?" Ed roared, a hand clutching the knot around his left eye.

Bill's hands shot out, grabbing Brad by the crest of his tank top. Out of all of them, Bill was the strongest, a portly man with wrists about as thick as his neck. "What you do that for, man?" he demanded of a disconcerted Brad.

"Let go of me, dumbass!" Brad cried. "She made me do. Psychic bitch made me punch him."

"Holy shit!" Bill said, releasing him. "That bitch!"

"My bad Eddie," Brad uttered woefully, crouching down and helping him up while Rosanne glowered.

"Let's get that Shiny!" Ed gurgled, an open fist being used as an eyepatch. "Where'd she go?"

The Gardevoir threaded her way through the human patchwork like a needle. In their jaded stances, attention applied to their Holo Casters or eyes settled on absolutely nothing at all, most humans failed to notice a Shiny blue sparkle whisk past.

Jake did. Jake was looking for her. When weaving past him, he gasped. "Well I'll be damned."

She had to get away from all of them as quickly as she could. She had to find a new spot, a new place to hide.

An elbow flew towards her face, a near accidental impact which she deftly avoided. Confronting a human wall, she swam underneath a pair of legs before shooting back up. In the process, her eyes grazed one of the windows where she saw a picturesque scene, rectangular manmade mountains looming towards a blue sky.

The Magnet Train was entering a city. It had to be Saffron. They were close.

Suddenly, a meaty hand caught her around the wrist.

"Got you!" someone cried, his voice exuding nothing but satisfaction and bliss. It was Jake.

Instinct mixed with a potent dose of fear catapulted her response. She turned to the large man in the red cap and ran up his physique like he was a wall. The first step collided with his squishy belly, causing him to grunt. The second struck his sternum, causing him to stagger. And her third stamped him hard across the head. She put everything she could into that third kick, pushing off of him and flipping gracefully in the air before landing a few inches above the ground. Floating there, waiting.

Her assailant remained vertical for a few seconds, his mouth seeping and pupils rolled to back of his head. With her third kick, Desiree had knocked him out cold. The grasp around the Pokémon's wrist relinquished as the man wearing a red cap wilted to the ground.

Desiree was free.

In that moment, she wanted to take a souvenir. Peeling the red cap off of Jake's head, she placed it upon her own, turning it backwards.

Red wasn't a very stealthy color, but neither was blue hair and a Shiny body. If anything, the red cap enhanced her stealth. Besides, being a big fan of Red the Pokémon Trainer, really the only human she liked, she couldn't resist making the signature cap her own.

"Hey Shiny Gardevoir!" cried an all too familiar voice.

Desiree looked frantically for a place to hide.

It was Ed. Brad, Bill, and Ed's fiancée were in hot pursuit as well.

"Where'd she go?" Rosanne wondered out loud.

"Don't worry," Brad said, "we'll find her."

"Screw this!" Ed yelled. "I know how to find her fast. Go Ursaring!" He tossed his Pokéball like a grenade in the middle of a half-raucous half-unsuspecting crowd.

An explosion of light revealed a massive figure which soared over the throng of humans. Every single individual face expressed unadulterated shock.

Perched at the towering figure's zenith was a pair of chocolate ears, narrow eyes, and a thick muzzle. Even as diminutive as she was, Desiree could see the hulking brown-furred Pokémon's head and broad shoulders. Narrow eyes immediately found their target.

Ursaring roared, upsetting most bystanders, especially those in close proximity. As for Desiree, she wasn't frightened in the slightest. Only Dark-type Pokémon scared her. Dark-types and humans.

"Move aside folks," Ed chanted. "Come on. Out of the way! Excuse me, pardon me. Pokémon Battle commencing!"

"You can't have a fight in here!" a woman spat.

"Battling is prohibited on the train," a man agreed.

"Remain calm people!" Rosanne countered. "We're trying to catch a Shiny."

"A Shiny?"

"Exactly," Brad said. "A wild Gardevoir appeared. And she's Shiny."

For the humans, that changed everything. "Oh...! Where?"

"She's right here!" someone yelled, a woman standing next to the Gardevoir and finally noticing.

"She's wearing a red cap," another squawked.

Desiree sighed, her cover blown. It didn't matter. Ursaring already knew exactly where she was. The bulky Pokemon's gaze was unwavering as his human Master, Ed, halted by its side. "She's mine!" Ed uttered, disdain thick in his voice as he unveiled a pink, swollen disk around his left eye. "Mine and mine alone. This is personal."

The fascinated sea of humans parted, bodies folding themselves against the array of window panels and intruding upon the personal space of the sedentary to reveal a long, wide-open corridor. Plenty of room for a Battle. Between them, there was mostly empty space obstructed by the occasional metal rod extending to the ceiling.

There was also the lumbering, eight-foot-tall Ursaring who's girth was nearly too wide for the corridor, as well as the sea of humans bordering the edges.

 _How should I feel_? Desiree wondered. Whenever determined humans discovered her and tried to capture her, that question presented itself. She quickly read their minds, sorting through their thoughts.  _Am I supposed to feel flattered that they want to own me? That they want to add me to their Pokémon collection? That they want to put me in a cage?_

They weren't bad people. That was the worst part. In fact, her four human predators had relatively tepid hearts. Rosanne was pregnant, and she and her lover Ed were thrilled about bringing a new life into the world. Brad and his Pokémon, a Gurdurr, had worked in carpentry for over five years and the two had become inseparable. As for Bill, he cherished his Pokémon, a Makuhita, as well as his friends Brad and Ed, though he secretly objected to Rosanne because he thought she usurped too much of his friend's time.

"Stay back now," Ed uttered, holding his arms out and baring anyone, even his friends, from interfering. "My Ursaring will take care of this! Go get her bro!"

The Pokémon roared savagely before dropping down on all fours, trading height for speed. When it galloped forward, Desiree  _whispered_  to it telepathically. " _I don't want to hurt you. Please turn back, Ursaring._ "

The Pokémon snarled, four massive paws thudding against the grated metal surface as it charged undeterred.

" _I warned you_ ," Desiree whispered, holding her ground.

"Rooting for you Ursaring!" Rosanne yelled. "Go get that Shiny!"

"Ursaring!" Ed yelled. "Go easy on her bro! She is a girl, after all."

Rumbling forward like a smaller furry train inside the metal Magnet Train, the Pokémon circumvented one of the large rods, losing a stretch of momentum before clamoring to its full height, square brown ears tipping the bars overhead. Its broad muzzle loomed an entire meter above Desiree's red cap.

"Ursaring! Introduce her to your sharp claws. Use False Swipe!"

A massive paw with five 6-inch blades whisked down towards two big orange eyes.

The Attack missed.

Five blades sailed inches above blue hair and refused to stop, sweeping in a kind of revolution which circled back towards a furry muzzle.

As Ursaring's paw slammed into its own face, its broad form spun around, its backside now facing the Gardevoire. With the flick of her wrist, nine-hundred pounds plunged forward headfirst, directly towards one of the metal rods.

**Bang**

Desiree wasn't done. Using her mind, she levitated nine-hundred pounds of muscle and fat and fur up, then down, then back up, and then back down, slamming bulky heft against the floor and ceiling of the train car repeatedly like a pinball.

Onlookers gasped, shocked by the display of power.

Only when Desiree was sure the Pokémon was out cold did she stop.

Eight feet of muscled fur lay sprawled on the ground, the creature quiet and inert save for the dulled grumbling of a heaving chest.

Desiree floated towards the body.

" _Sorry, Ursaring,_ " she whispered to the unconscious creature, pressing a blue hand over the rising and falling mass of fur over its belly. For a few weeks, she suspected that the Pokémon might walk funny. Awaiting Ursaring would be a sling for the broken arm, crutches for two shattered legs, and first and foremost a long day in a Pokémon Center emergency room. Poor thing. Eventually it would be alright, good as new. Wounds would heal. Broken bones would mend. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too much psychological trauma.  _I didn't want to hurt you_ , she whispered, rubbing the fur behind its ears.

"Get up Ursaring!" Ed shouted with buoyant emotion. "Come on buddy don't you faint on me now!"

"I think he's out," Rosanne said, folding her arms in disappointment.

"No…Ursaring…"

Brad scowled. "Let me handle this you two," he cried charging towards the fainted Ursaring as well as the Shiny Gardevoir crouched next to it.

Still clutched in his palm was an empty Pokéball, an Ultra Ball which he was certain could catch the Shiny even without injuring her.

"Hey boo! Remember me?" Placing his feet shoulder width apart, toes facing his target and elbows resting on the sides of his torso, he winded up a pitch. He shifted his body, placing his weight on one leg while lifting off with the other.

And he stayed that way, remaining on one leg like a ballerina, a thigh parallel to his hip, his hand thrust behind him and stuck in an awkward throwing motion. Unbreakable psychokinetic chains held his frame in place, turning him into a living statue. Bradley couldn't pitch that Ultra Ball at her. Blinking and breathing was all he could do.

Desiree floated towards him. Orange eyes never left his as she opened her knapsack. Feeling around a bit, she found what she was looking for.

Save for a few muffled whispers, quiet awes, and the peaceful sound of the Train moving full speed ahead, silence reigned. In one hand, she held her lighter. In the other, she held a cigarette. She calmly stuck the latter through parted, pallid lips.

"Brad!" Ed said angrily, now holding his arms out in disdain. "What are you waiting for bro? Throw it. Catch her."

"She's controlling him," Rosanne breathed. "He can't move."

"Holy shit," Bill said, Rosanne's words resonating. "We shouldn't have messed with her…"

First a flick, then the spark of orange flame burning like the Gardevoir's eyes. She took a long drag, letting a deluge of dry decay envelop her lungs like a warm blanket. Those underdeveloped lungs had grown very fond of the nicotine laden blanket.

She slowly ascended until orange eyes were on the same plane as Bradley's. Wide and blinking rapidly, the black pupils dilated, engulfing the surrounding strips of blue like two growing black holes.

" _I'm not your boo, Bradly,_ " Desiree whispered to the petrified human. Only Brad was allowed to discern those words, which echoed faintly inside his skull.

Parted fingers removed the cigarette in the Gardevoir's mouth before she exhaled, blowing a gray cloud of smoke in the human's stiffened face. As the smoggy mist enveloped his head, he closed his eyes and wheezed pitifully. If Desiree wanted to, she could have restricted his ability to do even that.

She glanced around at the dozens of human faces bordering the Battling Arena.

" _Anyone else want to try and capture me_?" She whispered to all of them.

She immediately regretted that challenge.

A cascade of Light overwhelmed her fin. Fear, anger, ambition. Reprisal was swift.

To the sea of humans, beating Ursaring to a pulp was impressive, but what she was doing to Brad was savage. How dare she "Attack" an innocent human being. That was crossing the line. As if things weren't already bad enough, they found Jake, a man lying on the ground with a bloody nose. He was also unconscious. The passengers quickly determined the wild Pokémon to be the culprit.

Bill went for his belt, his Makuhita ready and waiting. Others, humans of all ages, men and women, boys and girls, Trainers of all sizes, backgrounds, and proficiencies relished the opportunity to catch a Shiny.

Out of all of them, it was Ed who lunged first, arms open and a red face below a bandana outraged as he shouted, "I'm not done yet you bitch!"

The cigarette fell out of her mouth. The lighter flew into her bag. Brad dropped with a  **thud**  onto the floor.

She decided to brandish her pocket knife. It shot out of her bag and soared through air, the blade bursting out and landing like a magnet on Ed's neck. The man froze in place despite having full control of his body and mental faculties.

" _Stay back!_ " The Gardevoir shouted telepathically to him as well as everyone who was watching. " _I'm warning you. I'll hurt you!_ "

Rosanne screamed first. A symphony of screams accompanied. Ed screamed too, trembling in horror as the knife waited below his chin, the tip pointed centimeters from his Adam's apple. His pregnant fiancée rushed forward, grabbing him around the waist. "No!" she cried. "Please, Gardevoir! Don't!"

Passengers forgot about their agendas. Trainers lost their ambition. No longer did anyone care about catching the Shiny Gardevoir. There was a new centerpiece.

Survival.

Slowly, the screaming tapered, replaced by a chaotic calm which sent shivers down Desiree's spine the whole rest of the train ride. Through dozens of dim windows, Desiree's Light shined through. And what she saw caused a gleam to form in her eyes.

When the Magnet Train arrived in the Saffron Train Station, the brakes screeched, a sharp mechanical wailing augmented by the passengers' panicked silence.

Breaking the silence was a woman's voice. "You're an  _animal_ ," Rosanne uttered to the Shiny Gardevoir. A fleshy eyepatch covered her fiancé's left eye, the hand tipped with five black fingernails. While both of Ed's hands settled protectively over the bulge in Rosanne's belly, the knife remained aimed at the man's throat.

 _Animal_  was a slang term used to describe certain Pokémon. Wild Pokémon, uncaged and dangerous. Monsters.

" _I am not a monster,_ " Desiree whispered exclusively to Edward and Rosanne. " _I just want to be free like all of you_."

When the sliding doors opened, not a single human passenger budged. They all believed themselves to be in some kind of hostage situation perpetrated by a dangerous wild Pokémon. They waited for the insurgent to make a move.

Relinquishing the knife and returning it to her bag, Desiree glided out of the Magnet Train on the verge of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the major themes in this chapter is the racism (speciesism) which thrives in the Pokemon world. This will carry over throughout Pokemon Dark. Many Pokemon are just as intelligent, if not more so than human beings. Humanoid Pokemon are even related to humans, which is not something I fabricated. That piece is in the lore. The human hierarchy would ostensibly anger certain Pokemon despite the widespread conditioning throughout the land, which permits/celebrates non-human degradation and enslavement. There is also the "Monster" tag, which is the main focus of this chapter.
> 
> Who are the real monsters? Evil factions such as Team Rocket/Plasma exist. There is the furtive Pokemon Legion, which is still a closely guarded secret. Albina and Einstein are very sketchy, both of them up to your interpretation. Desiree believes herself to be hollow on the inside, but we've already seen that is not completely true. She has compassionate tendencies. But what exactly has humanity become? What sets them (us) apart from everyone else? Most Pokemon have learned to adapt to a society dominated by humans. Most Pokemon have human Masters whom they love. Many of these humans love them back, treating their Pokemon companions like family.
> 
> Desiree has not adapted, instead struggling to find her place (total badass though). On the other hand, the pathological liar and very vindictive Albina and her Ditto Einstein have adapted, blending in with humans while working towards their ultimate goal, whatever that may be.
> 
> Now, pertaining to Lucian's decision to become a Pokemon Trainer, I have Alabaster's lengthy conversation with him on backlog. Next Chapter I will provide that, along with other details exploring their first day in the heart of Saffron. Also pending, finally, is Desiree's rendezvous with Lucian. Yes, there will be a drama-infested romance between the two of them. Looker is looking for Lucian and Alabaster. Team Rocket/Plasma are up to something. Cynthia, Sabrina, Beast, the Pokemon Legion...there is much more to come. Thank you so much for reading!


	9. Saffron City Standoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of French dialogue. I've provided the translations at the end of the Chapter!

The rightward path leading to the interior of Saffron City was bordered by lofty poles with duel light fixtures. The path changed abruptly, becoming sprinkled with black and gray bricks, the same pattern embedded throughout the heart of the Shining Big City.  

When the road changed, so did the stench and scenery. The woodland aroma eroded, exchanged for the entropy of a sprawling metropolis. Lucian’s nose detected the indistinct, homogenized urban odor of innovation and industrial runoff. Electricity, metal, and concrete dominated this theatre, the beating heart of a city which seemed more alive than the dwindling forest and yet bereft all the same.

Lucian hated it.  

Varying sized buildings stretched to the sky, structures born of brick and steel and lucre. Glass windows exhibited a fraction of the rampant armies of male and female denizens. Much more of this army could be seen scattering the gray streets, thousands of people, individual cells circulating through a network of veins within the pulsating heart of Saffron, crossing large streets, small streets, and pausing on corners until green lights permitted their daily progress to resume.

In the heart of Saffron, Lucian was one cell following a pair of cells who were swept away in the flood. Surveying his surrounding for just a moment caused him to completely lose sight of raven hair and tattooed wings. If it wasn’t for Einstein’s staggering height which was augmented by a black top hat, Lucian would have lost track of them completely. Being quite tall himself, Lucian had never truly appreciated Einstein’s immense stature until now, where the guy towered over everyone else like an ambulatory skyscraper.

Cars rolled by every now and then, but the streets were dominated by people pumping their legs. Some Pokémon were out too, following their Trainers and looking happy to be out of their Pokéballs.

“Please help me!” a woman shrieked a ways ahead, ensnaring Lucian’s attention. Long blonde hair surrounded a bleached face, and perched on her shoulder was a balloon-tailed Aipom who looked just as desperate.

The duo was begging for money.

Passerby’s ignored them, as if that red face wasn’t there and those pleas were as inconsequential as the oxygen everyone breathed. As Lucian slinked past, his hands tunneled through empty pockets, searching and wishing he had something to give her. Even if the money would be used to enjoy forgetful solace for just one night, he would have given it to her.

Empty pockets forced him to listen to her cries until distance drowned them out.   

For a few panicked seconds, Lucian misplaced the Ninetails. He was no longer trotting there beside him.

Granted, he was a free Pokémon but he wouldn’t just run off like that, would he? Somehow they must have gotten separated. The young man jerked his head left, and then right, but the furry Pokémon was nowhere in sight. In fact, no one was within an arm’s length away. It was as if the crowd refused to permeate an indistinct bubble around him.  

“What an exquisite Pokémon,” he heard a woman remark.

“Very fetching creature,” someone else agreed. 

“Just don’t get too close,” a man cautioned. “Don’t wanna accidentally graze one of those long tails. They’re known to hold a grudge.”

Lucian knew exactly where the Ninetails was, even before that tiny voice quaked inside his skull.

Alabaster: _On your six, human_.   

When Lucian glanced around, the Ninetails was right there, right below his tailbone, a protruded muzzle mere inches away from human ass cheeks. Lucian’s eyes had to flee. When violet met crimson, the violets burned.

_Still, the human refuses to look at me._ Lucian heard inside his head. He read the Pokémon’s mind, bended his Light, albeit inadvertently. Alabaster thought he was being disrespectful. He couldn’t understand why the young man’s vision had to retreat.

No one did. Not even Lucian’s mother could.

Ahead of them, two edifices came into view. He recognized them immediately. Proportioned by size, the two stadiums drastically contrasted in design, standing side-by-side like Yin and Yang.

On the right, the Fighting Dojo, a structure dominated by large windows which exhibited exercise equipment as well as the people and Pokémon busy operating them. Behind that glass were treadmills, weightlifting machines, and much hubris.

On the left stood the Saffron City Gym, tall, wide, and proud. Built like a cathedral, imposing concrete pillars surrounded the building’s base, twisting and spiraling downward like slides on a playground.  

Lucian followed Einstein’s lofty black top hat, which soared leftwards.

Gathered around the magnificent pillars and columns at the front of the Saffron Gym was a large crowd. At first, Lucian thought it to be a cluster of rancorous tourists, but as they got closer, most arms were crossed, most faces were glum, and chatter for the most part was delegated.

At the back of the crowd was a man situated in front of the Gym’s entrance. Lucian recognized him immediately. His name was Ronald. He had been the Front Desk Supervisor at his mother’s gym for the last several years.  

“Sorry folks,” Ronald bellowed, his voice booming despite having no synthetic amplification, no megaphone or microphone. “Sabrina isn’t here at the moment. Be patient. Keep checking your BuzzNav’s, this is only temporary.”

“Where is Sabrina?” someone muttered in a weary tone.

“At this time, we cannot say.”

“Time! What time is she coming back?”

“We are doing everything we can to get the Saffron Gym up and running again. Be patient. It’s a big city with plenty of distractions to tide you over till then.”

The mob was a sea of disgruntlement. Most looked glum, a few others pissed. At least no one was rioting with Fire Pokémon and pitchforks.

Interestingly enough, Ronald was deflecting questions as if at any second, Sabrina was going to return to the Gym and Battling processions would return to normal. He didn’t know anything. All he did know was Sabrina was absent and until she returned, the entire Gym had to be shut down. Earlier, Lucian had seen the news on T.V. There was no mention of Sabrina being abducted.

Even at the Gym, no one was treating Sabrina’s disappearance as suspicious. There were no Police Officers in sight. There was no yellow tape. This wasn’t a crime scene. It was a mob quasi-patiently awaiting his mother’s return so they could challenge the Gym.  

“This ville is stupide,” a very top-heavy man said with a thick accent. The top-heavy man donned skinny black slacks which accentuated that fact, as well as an overgrown gray hoodie with dark patches. Mutton chops bordered his crinkled face, and he seemed to be with the older lady stooped next to him. Both wore black attire and looked middle-aged.

Two stern, craggy faces also looked definitively angry.  

“You’re telling me,” someone said in a way that expressed more poignancy than anger. A teenager, he looked to be around fifteen or sixteen years old. “This is stupid,” he groaned. “I came here all the way from Pallet Town.”  

_Pallet Town_. Lucian’s father, Red, was from Pallet Town.

“It’s whatever,” the boy said with a sigh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait here all day if I have to.”   

The top-heavy old man bellowed. “Pallet Town. Ha! Ma femme et moi avons voyagé ici de Kalos, garçon stupide.”  

“What the crap did you say old man?” the boy spat.

“We hail from Kalos, garcon. Voyagé all the way to Kanto to win all eight Gym Badges and take on the Indigo League. Do you want to know what else sets ma femme apart from you, garcon?”

The boy suddenly looked rather timid. “Uh, what?

“I’m glad you asked! Unlike you amateurs, ma femme could actually have beaten Sabrina.”   

“Courir à la maison à votre mère, garçon,” the elderly lady snapped at the boy. A black hood cloaked her head, and sleeveless robes swathed a steeply arched back and all four extremities down below.      

“Good advice, ma femme,” the top-heavy man said, nodding. ‘Femme.’ Lucian deduced that ‘Femme’ meant “wife” in French. Suddenly, the old lady’s eyes met Lucian’s gaze. Bushy brows above dark eyes furrowed.

Lucian demurred. When he did, he found himself one with the crowd. There were people in front of him and behind.

It was a tight fit.

Unlike the average denizens on the city streets who kept a respectful distance from nine swirly tails, these individuals didn’t appear nearly as cautious. They were Trainers. Many of them wore confident, if not vexed faces.  

“Well, here we are.”

Lucian’s vision flipped until a pair of dark sunglasses greeted him. Beneath that tint were pearly teeth between pink lips.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Albina asked. By him, she implied the employee already being bombarded by the bloviating crowd. Ronald.

Hiding the tremors in his voice, he said, “No, I think I’ve seen enough. It’s obvious no one is aware my mother was kidnapped.”  

“How are you feeling?” she asked with concern.

Lucian frowned. “My mother isn’t here,” he said dully. “It’s true. Seeing is believing.”

Albina cross her arms. “I already told you. Did you doubt me?”

Lucian shook his head firmly. “Of course not, commander.” He forced a grin, which tapered as soon as it surfaced. “It’s just being here now, seeing this crowd, witnessing with my own eyes that my mother isn’t here…I guess a part of me clung to the idea that I might still be dreaming.”  

He rolled up the sleeve of his maroon blazer. On his arm, the indentation where two fingernails had dug into skin was gone, though a notch of red remained. _I pinched myself hard_ , he thought. For a moment, he was tempted to do it again, but instead watched as his hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. He was awake. There was no denying his mother was gone. Kidnapped.      

“What’s with that face?” Albina asked, noticing his deportment. “Are you mad?”

“I feel more helpless, I think.”

Albina placed a hand on his shoulder. Pink lips opened to deliver comforting words of encouragement.

“You are helpless.”

Caught off guard, Lucian laughed uncomfortably. “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“It’s true, Lucian. Listen, I’m never going to lie to you. I’m always going to be straight with you, even if it hurts. Sometimes, the painful truth is the best remedy.”

Lucian’s touch glided to his opposite shoulder, where it landed on her hand, small and half covered by the tight sleeve of her dress. The skin was bared on the knuckles and dry like leather.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Albina?” Lucian asked, noticing how serious and solemn she looked.  

“You said you wanted to help me find your mother.”

“I do.”

“You said you could help me.”

“I can.”

“You also said you were willing to do whatever it takes.”

“I am,” Lucian said before gulping down a boulder. Silently, he begged her not to cross into _that_ territory.

“Good to hear it, Lucian, because I can’t babysit you for much longer. If you’re going to be of any help at all, you’re going to have to train Pokémon.”

Lucian’s mouth dropped. Violet eyes widened. His hand melted off of hers. When his shoulders swiveled, her hand melted off of him.

Spiraling around, his chin almost smashed into a nose, a broad nose sitting below beady eyes bordered by the deep grooves of crow’s feet. However, when a voice permeated the air, it didn’t belong to the old lady breathing on his neck.   

“Belle Ninetails, garçon,” the old man said nonchalantly. Positioned behind the old lady in a black mantle, his head peeked a few inches above the corpulent mountain that was her arched back. He scratched incessantly at one of his muttonchops as he spoke, his harsh gruff of a voice accompanied by a thick accent. Still scratching the whiskers on his face like they were infested with fleas, he snorted, “You must be itching for a Bataille to allow a Ninetails to walk around like that. Sabrina isn’t at the Gym and there’s no telling when she will return. To kill the time, ma femme wishes to challenge you to a Bataille.”

“A Battle,” Lucian quacked. His heart stopped working. His brain took a vacation. When he opened his mouth, his tongue performed solo, clucking without any cerebral assistance whatsoever.  

“That’s not my Ninetails.”

A euphoric look playing across her withered face, the old lady croaked, “Not your Pokémon, bel homme?”

Very slowly, Lucian shook his head as he inhaled the lady’s rancid breath.

“Tell me,” she croaked, “does this belle creature have a Maître? A Master?” Her accent thick, her voice raspy, and yet the English was clear and crisp.

“He’s a free Pokémon,” Lucian muttered.  

“Free?” she said, thick brows floating up and crow’s feet expanding.  “You mean, sauvage? Wild.” 

“No, free,” Lucian stated as positively as he could. “Free! Uh, you know like liberty…autonomy… independence.”  

A baffled looking old man scraped a slovenly cheek while a terse old lady stated, “A Pokémon without a Maître is an animal. Un sauvage. If this belle Ninetails with a golden fur coat is indeed sauvage, I will add it to my collection…”

Between a black ravine in the cloth of her mantle a pale limb emerged. Black and silver bracelets coiled around a bony wrist, and clenched in between spindly fingers was a Pokéball.

“A _autre_ home awaits you, _belle_ animal,” the old lady croaked excitedly. Under handing the device, she tossed it not three feet in front of the Ninetails, who sat on his haunches and observed with his muzzle tilted to the side as the small globe exploded with a flash of light.  

From that explosion, a small horror spawned, its tight-lipped grin composed of interlocking teeth.

It wasn’t that small. In fact, its eyes, dark red’s which Lucian had to avoid, were on par with Alabaster’s crimson cinders. Two willowy arms drooped along the sides of its black body, knobbed hands dragged on the floor. Mismatched feet with stubby legs jutted from the base of its dark frame, mirroring its two misshapen hands. Three short black spikes adorned its head above a throng of snaky black hair.

Instead of focusing on its eyes, Lucian’s vision grasped ahold of its freakish grin, a golden zippered crease. That gold matched its tail, a stout pentagram.  

It was a Ghost Pokémon. A gaping Lucian knew the species even before its Master’s elucidation. “This is my Bane,” the old woman croaked, “my wondrously wicked Banette. A shame Sabrina is not here right now. Upon her return, my Bane will single-handedly dispatch of every single one of her Psychic Pokémon. For now, this belle Ninetails will have to satiate my Bane’s hunger. Bane, Attack with–”

“–Don’t you dare.”

Heads turned. A dainty woman in a silky white gown grasped a Pokéball in one hand. Standing next to her was an extremely tall, brawny man wearing a black suit and top hat.     
“Who are you?” the old man asked, tugging at a tuft of his cheek hair.

“You first,” Albina shrugged.

“Victor is the moniker,” the old man said, still scrubbing with one hand. “And this,” the bulky black sleeve of his other arm fitted around a hunched back, “is ma femme, Taxon.”

“Look at you two!” Taxon’s grating voice piqued as she appraised the new arrivals. “Young and both so very good looking. What is your name, ma chère?” The old lady directed her words to the younger woman in white garb.  

“You may call me, Albina.”

“And who is tall, dark, and handsome?”

“His name is Einstein.”

“Absolutely magnifique. The two of you, so séduisant.” She wrinkled her nose. “Am I supposed to infer that this belle Ninetails belongs to you, fille?”

A flash of anger sparked across Albina’s face before evaporating under the sun. “Oh yes, as a matter of fact he does _belong_ to me,” she answered, gliding next to Alabaster who was having an intense staring contest with Bane the Banette, burning rubies glued to hungry red’s.

While Albina lingered behind, her hand casually browsed the nine dancing swirls. Taxon and Victor looked equally surprised by the display of trust and custody. For the old woman, that look lasted mere seconds. “I am impressed,” Taxon said affably, her tight lips creasing upwards. “How about a Bataille between the two of us? You versus moi. An energetic fille versus a decrepit old dame. What do you say, ma chère?”   

Albina shook her head of raven hair. “I must decline,” she said. “You see, we’re on a tight schedule.”

“Oh, excusez-moi!” the old lady cried, as if such a declaration was egregious. “You and tall, dark, and handsome?”

Albina nodded before extending a hand to Lucian. Her timing could not have been better. Bane the Banette was doing more than making the purple-haired Psychic uncomfortable. As a pariah, all Pokémon made him uncomfortable, though he did find himself warming up to them, particularly the Ninetails.

Ghosts though, were in a class of their own. Bane, as did all other Ghosts, made him feel queasy. 

Graciously accepting her hand, Lucian let Albina pull him in close. Behind them, Einstein’s top hat loomed high above.

“And this is Lucian,” Albina said, introducing the man with long purple hair. “I’m afraid the three of us are terribly busy today,” she then said, feigning disappointment.

“Trois!” the old woman cried. “Une petite fille et deux messieurs…Oui, two very good-looking messieurs indeed. Both tall and handsome, très beau. Ils ressemblent à des frères. Wouldn’t you agree, mon mari?”

“Sans aucun doute,” the old man said, glaring as he mauled at his hairy face. “Though the cheveux pourpre makes that one look like une salope.

Taxon laughed. It kind of sounded like someone gurgling water.   

"I do hope you understand, madam," Albina said, her face rendering congeniality. "Hey!" she said with a sudden surge of excitement. "I know! How about a rain check? Give me your number, Taxon. I'll put it in my Holocaster and we can try this again real soon." Albina grinned as Einstein began rummaging through his black bag. "Later, I will give you a Battle you will not forget," she said after he found and plucked the red device.  

Victor's scowl wiped the grin off Albina's face. "Next I suppose you'll want to add us both on the Facebook?" he said with cynicism. "What a shame. You trois came here to spar with Sabrina but don't have time for a Bataille with us older folks. I get it. I get it. C'est dégueulasse!"

Taxon turned to her husband and placed a bony, wrinkled hand on an equally cracked albeit hairy cheek. “Relax, mon mari. Look at her, she’s a busy fille. Two good looking gentleman on each arm. A ménage à trois. Busy fille must be très mouiller.”

Grinning back while giving Albina a sidelong glance, Victor replied, “No doubt, ma femme. Though this morning, I suspect the rush might be something else. A date with une cabine de bronzage.”

“Oh oui,” she cried, “that’s it! Just far too busy to test her Pokémon’s strength against my Bane. Jeune et belle et tellement stupide.”

Lucian couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t understand bits and pieces, but their spitefulness was evident. These two elderly folks were surreptitiously insulting them with accents and arbitrary bouts of French. Albina was taking the brunt of the affronts. Judging by her pokerfaced countenance, Lucian wasn’t even sure if she was aware of their rude rhetoric.

“A bit ageist, don’t you think? Albina asked suddenly, her hands on her hips.

She knew something was awry.

“Whatever do you mean ma chère?” Taxon asked pleasantly, her hand disappearing from view inside a black clothed ravine.

Splintering from the group, the nethermost edges of Albina’s pleated gown slipped up to bronze ankles as she knelt down beside Alabaster.

Directly in front of them, the Ghost Pokémon gave them a menacing zippered grin.

“Such a fragile creature,” Albina chimed intrepidly, directing her tinted gaze to the Banette. The Ghost’s golden zippered grin expanded into a hostile, threatening one below dark red eyes.

“Born of misery and suffering,” Taxon said with an eerie amiability. “A doll I found as a petite fille. A life trashed. Forgotten. Abandoned. Until I restored her. She is not fragile, I assure you. Not anymore, fledgling fille. Neither of us are.”

Albina arose, her back to Lucian. Black, tattooed wings adorned that bared canvas. “Taxon, you wanted to Battle me. So be it. I accept your challenge.”

Thin lips twisted into a grin. “Ah, you do, do you ma chère?”

“Oh yes, it should be an interesting battle indeed,” Albina said with the kind of calm that resonated seconds before conversational calamity.

“Pain versus pain.”

The old couple exchanged befuddled glances. “What in the world do you mean by that?” Victor asked as his wife leaned against him.

Albina loosened a series of giggles. “Listen and learn,” she said coldly, almost cruelly. “This battle will be decided by a single variable. The winner will be the Pokémon who harbors the most anguish. Your Banette’s deep-seated despair…” long white fingernails glazed over nine golden swirls, “…Versus Alabaster’s peerless pain.”

‘ _Pain_ ,’ Albina said. That word struck Lucian like a bus. Her rhetoric. In her battle with the three Team Rocket Grunts, she continuously referenced pain. Even before that, too. His hand crept to his left pec, over his heart, the spot Albina had jabbed with one of her fingernails.

_It felt good, didn’t it_? she had asked.

_What_?

_To unleash your pain_.

“Pain!” Taxon cried before croaking with laughter. “Douleur! You don’t even understand the meaning of the word, ma chère. You’re a fledgling. Très belle. But so obviously inexperienced. More than anything else, this Bataille will be a testament to experience. My decades of experience. And your lack thereof.”

“Bonne chance,” Victor added as he took a few steps back. “You’re going to need it, _putain_.”

“Are you prepared?” Taxon said in a foreboding tone that did not demand an answer. Her ashen hand had crept out of its home, a valley of blackness. Above a gaunt hand and bony wrist, the charms dangling from the dozen or so bracelets wrapped around her arm began to judder. Many of those charms were skulls, sheared human heads bopping around an arm which shook with excitement. One of those coils, a thick black band began to emit a faint red glow.

Before Lucian’s eyes, and the eyes of dozens of observing, gaping bystanders, Banette began to shriek sadistically. And then, in harmony with her master’s bracelet the Ghost Pokémon began to glow. Accompanying sadistic chants as well as a thick red radiation engulfing her malformed black body was the “Ooo’s” and the “Awe’s” of a riveted crowd. 

“Pokémon Battle!”

“Early morning standoff! Yes!”

“Move aside people! Give em’ room!”

“What’s happening to that one?”

“I think its Mega Evolving.”

“You’re right!”

“Let’s go Ninetails!”

“Move! Get out of their way you idiot!”

“Whoops, sorry!”

“Holy fuckasaurus!”

“Go Banette!”

“Screw you, go Ninetails!”

“Come on Ninetails!”

“Ninetails is so pretty!”

“I know, right?”

“No way he’s gonna beat a Mega, doe!”

“True! Hope it’s a good Battle none the less.”

“While we’re waiting put on a show you two!”

Lucian could only watch in apprehensive awe as Banette transformed into its stronger and far more disturbing Mega counterpart. Bulges formed all over her form before burrowing through. Slits in her extremities ruptured to reveal the power that had been dormant inside. Long pink legs descended below. Distended three-pronged claws replaced once dainty hands.   

A voice. Taxon’s creepy croak. “This won’t take long. Bane! Strike quickly. Shadow Sneak!”

The exalted Ghost, which now looked twice as big and ten times as nefarious slipped through the solid concrete of the ground and disappeared from view.

Another voice. Light yet sounding restrained, like something potent lurked deep within. “Alabaster, let’s see if your opponent is willing to dabble in treacherous melee combat. Cloak yourself in your _Dark Flame_.”   

The Ninetails looked back and nodded in understanding. A burst of flame ruptured around his elegant outline, adding to gold and white fur a glowing crimson hue. In that moment, Lucian mulled Albina’s command. What was the Dark Flame?

Whatever it was, Alabaster wore a translucent crimson fire like a thinly veiled layer of armor.

From out seemingly out of nowhere, well technically the ground but still, like the grimly Ghost that it was the Mega Banette arose directly behind nine swirly tails.

“Cut a few tails off Bane!” a shrill voice cooed.

A shadowy three-pronged claw swiped the air as it rushed towards golden swirls. _Cut a few tails off_ , Taxon had said. It was like she was trying to kill him!

“Behind you, Ninetails!” Lucian heard himself shout.

Alabaster didn’t even appear to be aware of the Attack. It didn’t look like he was going to whirl around or even glance around. If he was, it was going to happen at the very last second.

By then, it would be too late.

And yet, for some reason, the shadowy claw stopped.

“Cut them, Bane!” Taxon croaked. “Couper! Couper! Couper!”

Her chilling incantation ceased at the sound of girlish laughter. “Your Ghost Pokémon won’t dare strike Alabaster. Not when he’s cloaked in Dark Flame.”

Taxon groaned. “Tell me why, fille?”

“That is no ordinary fire. Fueling what you see surrounding Alabaster is something far more powerful.”

Cynical amusement shone between the woman’s crow’s feet. “My Ghosts are not afraid of your Fire, foolish fledgling fille. Bane! Shadow Claw!”

Mega Banette’s misshapen back was to Lucian, her zippered face pointed to the Ninetails in front of her. Beyond them stood Taxon. Finally, the Ninetails noticed the threat looming from behind. Gingerly, he turned around to face his ghostly opponent, as if there was never anything to be concerned about at all.

Maybe he was right.  

Even after another direct order from her Master, Bane appeared hesitant to strike. Instead of Attacking, her warped claws and limb lowered.

Albina’s soft voice permeated the air once again. “Fire...hahahaha! No, you misunderstand my dear Taxon. Ordinary flames consist of a chemical reaction. Combustion. The Dark Flame is not made of Fire. It is as distinct from Fire as Fire is from Water. The cradle of the Dark Flame is the soul. The Dark.”

Bane’s head bowed to face the human orator. That zippered face was folded down into a contorted grimace.

The Mega Pokémon looked scared.  

“Your Ghost Pokémon will not so much as lay a finger on Alabaster,” Albina continued as she mockingly examined long white nails in front of her face. “Not when he is sheathed in Dark. Ghost Pokémon harbor great fear for that which is Dark. Ghost Pokémon live on the very fringes of existence, their essence malformed, their soul exposed. The Dark finds such fragility quite delicious. And as always, the Dark hungers…”

Standing just a few feet away, Lucian caught sight of Albina as she licked her lips.

Suddenly, Taxon let loose a tidal wave of croaky mirth. “Fledgling fille, I appreciate your insight. Most of it is folie, but I have ascertained something of significance. Apparently my Bane cannot use her shadow claws. No matter. We will find another way to win this Bataille, fledgling and very foolish fille.”      

The old woman gasped as Albina exuded her most impudent string of rib-clutching giggles yet.

“All this time insulting my youth,” the woman in white said with suddenly rigid poise, “yet you neglect the Pokémon yours is facing. Did you know that this particular Ninetails is older than every single human who hoped to challenge Sabrina this morning combined? How old are you and your husband Taxon? Sixty? Seventy? Ha! Added together the both of you barely dip into triple-digits. On the other hand, Alabaster is an ancient creature. Eight-hundred and ninety-three years of age. Compared to him, we are all fledglings. Before you boast about your experience – _rotten_ _human_ – consider that there are others here older and far wiser than you can ever hope to be.”

Lucian’s jaw nearly grazed the ground. _Did she just say Alabaster was eight-hundred and ninety-three years old_?   

Taxon looked incensed. Thin lips trembled in rage as her husband placed two wrinkled hands on her black, blanketed shoulders. Disgust and animosity oozed from Victor’s voice as he masked the intricacies. “Des mots vides . Elle est pleine de merde!”

Lucian hadn’t a clue what flea-face said. French was beyond his grasp.  

“Maybe I am full of shit,” Albina uttered to the older couple’s joint surprise in addition to the young man’s.

“Hard to tell these days, huh?” A rhetorical question. That was invitation to cease the not so very pleasant pleasantries and resume Battle.

“Bane!” the old lady seethed. “Show this foolish fille and her belle Pokémon your despair! Shadow Ball!”

“How amusing,” Albina scoffed, pointing to the Ninetails whose crimson eyes were blazing. “Alabaster, evoke your pain. Pain centuries in the making. Pain even the dauntless Queen of the Bottomless Pit dreads. Give them a taste. A drop. That should be more than enough.”

As the battle ramped up, Lucian couldn’t help but gape at Albina with quizzical fascination.

At twenty years old, her accomplishments were impressive. The owner of eight Gym Badges. An agent of the International Police. Looking hot as hell in that white dress.    

But during their Pokémon Battles, the things that slithered down her tongue were nothing short of bizarre. The Dark Flame? The Queen of the Bottomless Pit? And what on earth was up with this pain she kept referencing?

To Lucian, it was the kind of rhetoric that sounded cryptic.

Returning his attention to the conflict, he kept his ears peeled for a light, feminine voice.

Within Mega Banette’s converged claws, a tiny spec of spectral energy grew into a giant, rickety globe. Slinging its malformed limbs back behind the three horns sprouting from its black head, converged claws ricocheted, hurling the energy it was holding directly towards a golden fur coat.

Albina’s voice rang. “Alabaster! Unleash Dark Pulse!”

That’s when somebody upstairs turned the lights off.

It happened within the blink of an eye. One second, the sky was blue. The next, it was black as night.   

A night sky at the top of the fucking morning.

Lucian didn’t want to panic. He wanted to play it cool. He wanted to fit in and ape what everyone else did.

The problem was everybody else had disappeared. No one was there. Just blackness all around.  

Lucian looked left, right, left, right, then he looked left twice in quick succession to change things up a little bit, an impulsive experiment to see if his deviating might set the world back on track.

Nope. No one was there. The world was empty, devoid of everything, people, Pokémon, the Saffron City Gym.

Up in the night sky, there was nothing there either. Just black.

Wait.

He squinted. Eyes focused. He found something. Many things. There were dots in the sky, glowing faintly like stars. Glittering, twinkling, _crimson stars_.

The moment Lucian discovered them, his vision grew hazy and his eyes felt like they had burst, splattering in their sockets like eggs.

“Fuck!” Lucian moaned as he crammed his vision shut. He wished he was an Abra. An Abra could teleport away from the pain. Far away. Back home where his mother would be safe and waiting.

“Ooo’s” and “Awe’s” suddenly engulfed Lucian’s senses, the rush of a rousing crowd.

Violet eyes sprang open.

Up above, fluffy clouds stained a normal blue sky. Normalcy reigned. Traffic was littered everywhere. Albina was up ahead, Einstein at back next to him, Taxon was on the other side with Victor standing beside her, and the crowd of onlookers had broken into rambunctious applause.

In the makeshift battling arena, the Ninetails was sitting on his haunches, licking one of his tiny paws as nine majestic swirls danced around behind him.

Below his muzzle, Mega Banette’s shadowy body lied motionless on the ground, red-eyes closed and zippered lips horizontal.

“My Bane!” Taxon hurled her voice forward as she did her body, entering the battling arena. Victor, whose movement was also tempered, held onto her hand as she waddled over next to the fainted Pokémon and kneeled slowly down beside her.

Cheering and applause flooded Lucian’s senses.

“Wooooooooooooooooo!”

“No way!”

“Unbelievable!”

“A Mega losing…unreal!”

“Go Ninetails, I knew he could do it!”

“I almost feel sorry for the Mega.”

“That Ninetails kicks ass!”  

Dark eyes met Lucian’s. Why was the old lady staring him down? When they departed at last, she directed her attention as well as crusty lungs to the victorious Trainer.

“Très impressionnant, jeune fille,” she uttered, sounding dejected.

Albina entered the makeshift arena. The Battle was over, but the old lady’s bushy brows furrowed when a bronze hand sailed down in front of her. “You never had a chance,” Albina said flatly, her lowered hand motioning like it was waiting for something.

Creaking knees propelled the mantled figure up. Lowering her hood, Taxon’s arched back crested just above a tightly tied head of gray hair. She wasn’t very tall, but swathed in black she looked stocky. Besides, at her stature she still surpassed the woman in white.  

“We will meet again, fille,” she croaked, her gaze unyielding. “Next time, we will be prepared.”  

“Don’t waste any more of my time, _sorcière_ ,” Albina uttered, motioning with her hand yet again. Fingers with long nails undulated back and forth. “Pay up. Tu me dois.”

Apparently Albina did know French.    

Taxon’s eyes widened before narrowing, crow’s feet deepening. Riled, she croaked, “Victor, give the fille her winnings.”

As her husband parted with a stack of bills, never once did the old lady’s eyes cease their brooding.

Albina counted the money before exchanging it over to Einstein, who dropped it into his black bag. 

 “You have a lot of nerve slighting someone like me,” Taxon croaked. “I’d be careful if I were you, fille.”

Albina grimaced, one of wry amusement. “Looks can be deceiving. Attention à la marche. Vous pourriez tomber.”

“Says the fille walking on a tightrope,” a nettled Victor replied, his accent thick and tone grating. One hand yanking on a mutton chop, the other made a threatening gesture. Not a jerk or a lurch, nothing fast, just a hand descending slowly to his waist where it gradually dragged up the helm of his patchy hoodie.

Dangling there on his belt were two Pokéballs.  

Taxon beckoned next for their attention.

A pale branch of bone shot out of one of her mantle’s black valleys. Inside a fidgety hand was an Ultra Ball. “Return,” Taxon said, directing the beam of red light at the fainted Mega Banette.

“You should know,” she croaked as the mantle swallowed her hand, “that Bane isn’t even my strongest.” Her eyes drooped down to the Ninetails’ level, where crimson cinders did not yield. “Next time I find you, magnifique Ninetails, my fiends and I will teach you a lesson. Next time I see you and that belle golden pelt, I’m going to play for keeps.”

The woman in white giggled pleasantly. Motioning with a hand towards the two Pokéballs clipped on the belt around her own waist, one of them containing her mysterious Pokémon, Albina said, “If we ever meet again, and I hope we do, I will show you my strongest Pokémon…Einstein! Lucian!”

Lucian watched as the meathead in the suit ambled over there next to her. She called his name too. Timidly, the man with long purple hair wandered over, closer. Out of all of them, he was they only one without a Pokéball. Tension in the air, that fact resonated deeply.  

A black bag cradled in Einstein’s broad limb, he fumbled around inside the crevice, picking through a field of obscured items. After a few moments, he found it.

“Thank you, my darling,” Albina said, taking it from him. Undoing the latches on the small silver case, she opened it up and flaunted to Taxon and Victor the contents inside.

Gazing at Albina’s collection of eight Gym Badges, neither said a word. The two elderly folks just glared. Sabrina’s Marsh Badge was there, too. That had to be an intimidating surprise.

“As you can see, we have been very busy,” Albina uttered before slamming the case shut and handing it back over to Einstein. “ _Bonne chance_ , Taxon and Victor. Until next time…”

Twirling around, Albina brazenly strolled away from them. “Come on Ally,” she called, who reacted immediately, leaping off his haunches and trotting towards her.  

Taxon and Victor stared as she strode away, eyes no doubt glued to the ink decorating Albina’s back.

“Let’s go Einstein, Lucian,” Albina called.

Breaking into a sprint, the meathead caught up and stuck by her side. Bringing up the rear, Lucian watched as Alabaster slowed to stick by his side.

Once they were a ways away, Lucian glanced back. The elderly couple was still glaring in their direction. “I think you managed to piss them off,” he said, muffling his tone. “I hope that was your intention.”

“Those are bad people, Lucian,” Albina said up ahead, possibly a bit too carelessly.

“So why piss them off?” Lucian answered, lowering his voice and hoping Albina would do the same.

“On the contrary,” she said wearily. “I did everything I could back there to discourage them.”

“From what?”

“From trying to steal Ally again.”

Glancing timidly over his shoulder, Lucian watched the golden outline scurrying alongside him, posterior tails swaying back and forth.

“Steal him,” he uttered, thinking he must have misunderstood. “What gave you that impression?”

“Call it a hunch. Taxon was more than a little bit infatuated with Alabaster and his _golden fur coat_. You saw what she tried to do to him back there. She wanted him dead or alive, to her it didn’t matter.”

Lucian wasn’t sure what to think at first. Obviously something was off about Taxon and Victor. Albina wasn’t Tauros-shitting either, she was being serious. As a detective, she was probably very good at construing people’s intentions, even of those she just met.

There were bad people in the world. Lucian had seen that first hand. Team Rocket abducted his mother, and Koga of all people was involved somehow. Flea-face and his hunchback wife trying to capture Alabaster suddenly didn’t sound all that implausible.

Lucian glanced back. Several blocks away now, the Saffron Gym was still visible. Taxon and Victor, however, were long gone.

His hands knotted into fists.

The thought of them trying to maim or even kill the Ninetails trotting along beside him was infuriating.

Unfastening his fists, he glanced down at them. Blemished white, they surprised him. They felt strong and capable. Yet at the same time, a sense of helplessness coursed through him, similar to how he felt earlier. How was he going to save his mom with just his fists? Unlike most people, he didn’t have even one lonesome Pokéball strapped to his belt.

_You’ve got wit_ , he told himself. _You’ve got to start thinking like a detective. Like Albina. Remember when you were suspicious of her? Now you know she can be trusted, but as for everybody else, be on your guard._

As he followed the woman in white through busy streets as well as the buzz of urbanity, he ruminated. Not about his mother, instead he contemplated the elderly couple’s discourse, at least as much as he could comprehend.

Albina reasoned that they wanted to apprehend Ninetails. He wanted to see if he could come to that same conclusion.

After a few minutes, he asked Albina a question as they stopped and waited at an intersection.        

“So, apparently you can speak French?”

“Oui,” she said, tapping her foot.

“What does _belle_ mean?”

“Beautiful,” she answered. 

On the other side of the road, the light flashed green. Crossing, Lucian muttered to his cohort, “That’s what I thought. She kept calling Ninetails _belle_ , beautiful, referring to him like he was…I don’t know like an object or something. She even commanded her Pokémon to Attack his tails. Pretty sadistic. I think you’re right Albina, she wanted to capture him or kill him for some reason…”

“Of course I’m right,” she quipped. Up ahead, Albina’s voice was soft against the influx of urban noise. Lucian had to close the gap between him and tattooed wings to discern what she was saying.

“The world is filled with these types,” she continued. “You hit the nail on the head by the way. Objects. Humans objectify Pokémon without a second thought. To most people, Pokémon are commodities. Gladiators to train and fight. Dolls to dress up and judge. Objects to own and possess and do with however they see fit, with no regard to the Pokémon’s personality and dignity.”

Lucian’s hands tightened into fists when she said that. The thought of a Pokémon being mistreated and objectified was infuriating.  

He realized something then. Earlier, when he slipped up and told Taxon that Alabaster was a “Free Pokémon,” she pounced, ready to capture him in a Pokéball at a moment’s notice and appearing very giddy by the opportunity. Not only did she refuse to acknowledge his being free, the old lady trashed the concept entirely, asserting that there was no such thing as a free Pokémon. Free was synonymous to wild. Wild Pokémon lived to be captured.

Wasn’t that the ideology espoused by society? It was, and it correlated with Lucian’s cultural disenchantment. Training Pokémon conflicted with his morals. 

And then there was the pain. When he stared into their eyes, he could feel their pain.

Suddenly, Albina stopped. As he and Alabaster hit the brakes, the woman in white folded her arms.

“This incident begs a question, were you paying close attention to the Battle?”

“Yeah, I was there,” Lucian mumbled, glancing around. They had parked in front of a Poké Mart.  “I’m a witness,” he mumbled again, wondering if the shopping center was a checkpoint before returning his attention to their conversation.  

 “Tell me what you saw?” Albina posed slyly, having noticed his outward perplexity.

Lucian didn’t answer immediately. He waited for the proverbial light bulb to blink over his head. “Uh, I recall you being a total badass…” he suggested rather flippantly.

Albina giggled. “Ally deserves most of the B.A. credit. All I did was make a few suggestions. That’s what being a Trainer is all about, Lucian. Knowing your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses but more importantly, knowing those of your own Pokémon.”

“Sounds incredibly onerous,” he replied, trying to muddle her assertion with a fancy lexicon and subtle pessimism.

“Oh it is,” Albina replied. “I never said it was easy.”

Copying Albina’s stance, Lucian crossed his arms. “Soooo, why are we standing here commander?” he asked, motioning with his purple head the building behind her.

“We’re going shopping,” Albina said simply.

There had to be wax in his ears. “Come again?” he said. “I thought I heard you say we were going shopping.”

“You heard correctly. We’re going shopping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French: Ma femme  
> English: My wife
> 
> French: Mon mari  
> English: My husband
> 
> French: Garçon  
> English: Boy
> 
> French: Bel homme  
> English: Handsome
> 
> French: Fille  
> English: Girl
> 
> French: Ma chère  
> English: My dear
> 
> French: Dame  
> English: Lady
> 
> French: Moi  
> English: Me
> 
> French: Autre  
> English: Different
> 
> French: Bataille  
> English: Battle
> 
> French: Trois  
> English: Three
> 
> French: Magnifique  
> English: Magnificent 
> 
> French: Séduisant  
> English: Attractive
> 
> French: Excusez-moi  
> English: Excuse me
> 
> French: Ma femme et moi avons voyagé ici de Kalos, garçon stupide.  
> English: My wife and I traveled here from Kalos, stupid boy.
> 
> French: Courir à la maison à votre mère, garçon.  
> English: Run home to your mother, boy.
> 
> French: Très beau.  
> English: Very nice/handsome.
> 
> French: Ils ressemblent à des frères.  
> English: They look like brothers
> 
> French: Sans aucun doute  
> English: Without a doubt
> 
> French: Cheveux pourpre  
> English: Purple hair
> 
> French: Une salope  
> English: A slut
> 
> French: C'est dégueulasse!  
> English: It's disgusting!
> 
> French: Ménage à trois  
> English: Threesome 
> 
> French: Très mouiller  
> English: Very wet
> 
> French: Une cabine de bronzage  
> English: A tanning bed
> 
> French: Jeune et belle et tellement stupide.  
> English: Young and beautiful and so stupid.
> 
> French: Petite fille  
> English: Young girl
> 
> French: Douleur  
> English: Pain
> 
> French: Bonne chance  
> English: Good luck
> 
> French: Putain  
> English: Whore
> 
> French: Couper! Couper! Couper!  
> English: Cut! Cut! Cut!
> 
> French: Folie  
> English: Insanity
> 
> French: Des mots vides . Elle est pleine de merde!  
> English: Empty words. She is full of shit!
> 
> French: Très impressionnant, jeune fille.  
> English: Very impressive, girl. 
> 
> French: Sorcière  
> English: Witch
> 
> French: Tu me dois.  
> English: You owe me.
> 
> French: Attention à la marche. Vous pourriez tomber  
> English: Watch your step. You might fall.


	10. Shopping with a Friend

“ **No Furry/Feathery Pokémon Allowed**!” That’s what the sign insisted, bold red letters on a square white cardboard plastered on the front door of the Poké Mart.

In smaller letters below the bold: “Furry & Feathery Pokémon Must Be Kept Inside Their Pokéballs At All Times, Thank You!”

Free yet furry, the Ninetails wasn’t permitted to enter, not unless he was shrunk and sucked inside a red and white spherical device.

“Darling, do me a favor and stay outside with Ally,” Albina said, a tinge of disdain in her light voice.

Or there was that option.

Nodding, the man-pretty skinhead wearing a black top hat held out his leathery bag. Taking ahold of the strap, the woman slung it around her shoulder and clutched the bulk at her hip.

Ushering the sophisticated looking gentleman with long purple hair towards the store, she said, “You!”

“Me…?” Lucian said as he cheekily poked his chest.  

“Yeah, you! You’re coming in with me.” She started towards the door.

On instinct, the young man lunged ahead of her. Apparently his instincts were determined not to squander the opportunity for chivalry.

Hanging from the door were several jingle bells which rang as they banged against the swiveling glass. Filing through the opening, Albina curtly said, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Lucian replied, following her inside.

The Poké Mart was large and bustling with shoppers. As soon as you walked in, you were greeted with a tsunami of air conditioning emanating from above. Variegated teal tiled flooring proliferated below. The vast indoor environment was lit by an array of high-ceiling lights. Separating that space were dozens of aisles racked primarily with Poké gear.

It wasn’t the first time the young Psychic had been inside the Saffron Poké Mart. Was it the second? No, he was pretty sure it was the third. _Third times the charm_ , he supposed. 

The two of them b-lined one of the front desks. Behind the counter was a bleached pony tail which belonged to a slack-jawed female sales clerk.

“Good…morning…” the clerk said with baffling awkwardness.

The nametag said “Tiffany.” For whatever reason, Tiffany’s jaw was loose. She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. Freckles sprinkled around her nose and she had magnetic blue eyes. They were magnetic because Lucian couldn’t tear away. She wouldn’t stop staring at him and he couldn’t stop staring at her staring at him.

She started it!   

“Hi, Tiffany,” he said as politely as he could, trying to break free from her gaze but failing outright.

Openmouthed, the clerk remained silent. It was like she was under some kind of spell. Literally, because when she snapped out of whatever it was she wobbled for several seconds.

Weird.  

“What can I do for you today sir!?” She blurted out, blushing heavily afterwards.

Lucian’s peripheral vision informed him that his neighbor in the white dress was stifling a laugh. Tiffany didn’t appear to notice, or maybe she didn’t care.

“I actually don’t know to be quite frank…” Lucian explained, trying to keep his own tension down to a minimum. “Uhhhh…” His head creaked to Albina, who fittingly placed her hands on the counter. “She’s in charge,” he said, motioning to the commander.

After a few seconds, Tiffany’s blue eyes departed, closing as she expelled several less tense giggles. When her eyes opened, they were directed towards bug-eyed sunglasses.  

“Okay, since you’re in charge, what can I do for you two today?”

“I would like to purchase Poké Balls,” Albina said, clacking her long nails against the marble of the desk. Raven tresses draped over an otherwise bared shoulder. Slung around the other shoulder was the strap of her black bag. 

Tiffany nodded enthusiastically, her demeanor far more relaxed as she conversed with the same sex. “Certainly, what kind and how many?”

 _Pokéballs_ , Lucian groaned inside his head. Fuming, he could only brood at the provocateur in dismay. Albina wouldn’t stop. She was intent on turning him into a Trainer in a single fucking morning.

“Ten, please,” Albina said simply. “Just regular Pokéballs.”

Tiffany swiftly dropped down below, disappearing from view behind the counter. When she shot back up, she was holding a tray with a matrix of indentations. The round dents were for Pokéballs. Spinning around, she inspected the display of devices ordered in neat rows and columns on the wall behind the counter. Different sections displayed items of distinctive colors, designs, and prices.

“Ten regular Pokéballs…” the clerk said to herself. Scooping one up and placing it in the tray, she repeated the same exact process while counting out loud. “One…two…three…”

Lucian felt vexed. And fidgety. Compelled to get Albina's attention, he hissed, “Yo! Pssst!”

A bug-eyed head turned leisurely in his direction. “Hmmm...?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed again.

“Breathing,” she replied as the clerk turned back to face them, both hands holding a tray stocked with Pokéballs. Price tags were attached to each one.

Disgruntled, Lucian could only bite his tongue as she placed that tray on the counter.

“Forgive me for being blunt,” the clerk said as she scanned the barcodes for each item, “but your boyfriend is by far the cutest guy I’ve ever seen in person.” Occasionally sneaking side-eyed peeks at him as she scanned the items, she said, “I’m actually really jealous of you.”

Lucian was pretty sure he would have fainted from light-headedness if his mind wasn’t already weighed down by vexation.  

“He is cute, isn’t he?” the woman in white stressed. “Absolutely superb genetics.”  

“Tall,” the clerk said, eyeing Lucian for another split-second before darting away, freckled cheeks sweltering. “You two are perfect for each other. You’re drop-dead-eff-ing gorgeous and he’s, well...” One hand clutching the barcode scanner, both of her hands flew to her heart as she whispered dreamily, “I absolutely adore hot guys who dye their hair and make it work. And B-T-Dubs, his is working overtime…” She sighed heavily.    

“He dyes his hair all the time,” Albina articulated fluidly. “Last week he was a blonde like you.”

A couple of white lies. The delivery was perfect, extremely convincing. For a few seconds Lucian even fell for them, hook, line, and sinker.

Then he remembered that she was lying on his behalf. _Your hair is all-natural_. _You should know. It’s your hair dumbass_.

“I love the purple!” the clerk cried, rocking her head and closing her eyes despite rapidly punching keys on the cash register. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he looked great as a blonde, but I hope he keeps it this way, at least for a little while longer…”

“Me too,” Albina said agreeably. Then, she made something quite clear. “Just so you know, the two of us are not actually a couple.”

From behind the cash register, the clerk with the ponytail glanced up. Raising an eyebrow, her attention glued to the other member of the female species, she said, “Girlfriend are you serious? How do you put a guy like that, like this in the friend zone?” A sliver of guilt affected her demeanor as she murmured with downward palms and straightened fingers, “No, you know what? I’m sorry it’s none of my business.” She waved a hand in front of the tray. “Here are the items you requested. Of course for purchasing ten Poké Balls you get a free Premier Ball as an added bonus. And…” She swiveled her head back and forth, wide eyes surveying their immediate surroundings and beyond, a long bleach ponytail swinging on its hinge before settling. For a few silent moments she eyed another cashier at the nearby checkout desk, an older lady who was preoccupied with another customer. “Keep it on the down-low,” she whispered, “but I’m also sneaking you two a Love Ball. Free of charge.”

Glazing over the tray, Lucian quickly tallied twelve devices. Ten regular Poké Balls plus a starkly white Ball with a red strip in the middle made eleven. Finally, the last sphere appeared white on the bottom but on top it was pink with a big, bloated heart painted on the front.

A Love Ball.     

“Maybe you’re not a thing…yet!” the clerk said, her voice still muffled. “Maybe you’re just F.W.B’s. I dunno the whole story even though I kind of want to. Anyway, what I do know is you two would look super cute together.” She began bagging the items one-by-one.

Lucian glanced over at Albina. It was the first time he had ever seen her absolutely speechless, her mouth hanging open.

“You have to pay for these you know,” Tiffany said jokingly as she placed the bag on the counter. “That will be two-thousand dollars.”  

“Oh, right,” Albina said, snapping out of her trance. “How much?”

“Two-thousand.”

“Of course, give me just a second.” White fingernails dived into the black bag where a bronze hand deftly extracted a stack of bills. Upon exchanging a counted amount, there was the cha-ching of the cash register.

“You’re all set,” the clerk said, “and since you’re in charge…” she handed Albina the bag, its plastic base bulging with a dozen Pokéballs.

Stiff as a statue, Lucian turned around and began cranking his legs away from the desk, an elbow to Albina’s shoulder.

“Thank you very much for you purchase!” Tiffany called from behind. “Oh and um…wait! One last thing. Um…cute guy!?”

Lucian froze, as did the raven-haired woman next to him. “She’s talking to you,” Albina uttered. “You’re the cute guy.”

Lucian twirled around. This time, when he met the clerk’s blue eyes they had salvaged their magnetic field. As he approached the desk, their eye contact sustained. However, although she was blushing she didn’t seem quite as nervous as before. “So,” she said with a shrug, “if you’re not with _her_ , can I give you my number?”

A clammy hand nonchalantly reached into his pants pocket. “Hold on,” Lucian said, pulling out his Holocaster. With a thumb, he worked the touchscreen. Opening up the Contacts app, he tried not to teeter as he said, “Okay, what is it?”

She gave it to him. All ten digits. As he entered them one-by-one, he felt his pulse accelerate. She was his second Contact.

“Can I have your number?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he said, downplaying his excitement as he gave it to her.  

“Name’s Tiffany, by the way.”

Lucian looked up where he discovered blushing freckled cheeks below blue eyes. “It’s on my badge,” she said with both sass and a morsel of anxiety, prodding the rectangular emblem on her uniform just below her right shoulder. “In case you’re a bad speller…”

Lucian grinned, causing her pink cheeks to turn red. He wanted to jump for joy, but instead decided to suppress his excitement. Something gave him the feeling she was doing the exact same thing. “T-I-F-F-A-N-Y,” he said smoothly. “I think I’ve got it. I’ll see you around, Tiffany.” He threw her a smirk and a wave before turning around.

“Wait!”

He turned back around, dizzy though not so much from pirouetting.

“What’s your name? I’d rather not type _cute guy_.”

“Oh right!” He ambled back over to the counter. “It’s Lucian.”

“Loo-shin,” Tiffany repeated as she typed on her Holocaster’s touchpad. A puzzled expression formed over her face.

"Yeah,” Lucian said, “Kind of like Lucy, but instead of a _y_ at the end add an _i-a-n_.”

“Loo-shin…” She placed a finger to her lip, lashes batting as she looked at him. “Lucian…that sounds so familiar…”

 _Fuck_ , Lucian thought. _She’s on the verge of recognizing me_. Blue eyes studied him top to bottom. She opened her mouth.

 _Fuck my asshole_!

“Call me sometime, Lucian!” the clerk chirped before greeting another customer, who had been waiting with their arms crossed and a foot tapping.

 _Whew_. Close call. Apparently he wasn’t as recognizable as he thought he might be. To be fair, his mother was the famous celebrity. He was just her unaccomplished bastard child with long purple hair and violet eyes. Still, the longer he remained in public the more likely someone was going to identify him.  

At the moment, there were more pressing mental matters to attend to.  

He powerwalked over to a waiting Albina who had her Holocaster out as she stood over at the front of the store, sunglasses pointed downwards. Thumbs thrummed the touchscreen furiously. She was definitely texting. She was also frowning for some reason, though when she looked up and saw him that frown flipped.

“Look at you,” Albina said as she placed her Holocaster back in her bag. “That clerk was crazy into you.”

“I guess so,” Lucian mumbled, naturally modest and not forgetting that he was quite vexed.

“You should see your face!” Albina exclaimed through a knowing grin. “I’m pretty sure that’s what happy looks like.”

Lucian sighed. He did have to admit, he felt really good about what just happened. At the same time, he needed to highlight her tactlessness. “So,” he said, “are you going to explain why you’re buying me a crap-ton of Pokéballs? I feel like I’ve mentioned once, or twice, or forty times that I have no intention of training Pokémon.”  

“Be a dear and get me a buggy,” Albina crooned, ignoring his question while dumping the plastic bag of Pokéballs into the cavern that was her leather black bag.  

Lucian sighed. First Pokéballs and now what? Weren’t they done? No of course not, she was a girl. Shopping meant…shopping. Fuck.

He traipsed towards the section of the Poké Mart where about ten million empty shopping carts remained idle. Selecting the very first one, he peeled it from the grasp of another and reeled it around. As he drove along the tile floor, he realized one of the wheels was squeaky. Fucking fuck!

“Follow me,” Albina commanded before taking off.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lucian answered cheekily, wheeling along behind her and trying not to focus on the constant, maddening squeaking. As a distraction, he found himself staring at the swaying of her hips. Despite the visual appeal, he was upset with those hips.    

“For the record,” the owner of those hips called up ahead, “I didn’t purchase those Pokéballs for you. They were for me.” She turned around abruptly, forcing Lucian to come to a screeching, squeaky halt. A guilty look coated his face, as if somehow she caught him checking her out.

“I was running low,” she stated flatly.  

Low on Pokéballs. She was just buying them for herself. Lucian exuded a sigh of binary relief. “I guess I owe you apology,” he said, toning down the cheekiness and trying to sound candid.  

Albina shrugged. “Instead, how about you explain to me why you refuse to train Pokémon?”

“Come on, not this,” he groaned, laughing defensively, hoping she wouldn’t pressure him. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“It’s hard to explain,” he said as she resumed wandering around. Tailing her, “There’s not just one reason.”

Albina made a sharp turn, gliding down aisle number ‘8.’

“I’m all ears,” she said before slowing down and planting her roots in front of an assortment of diverse looking backpacks.

Parking the shopping cart beside her, he sighed. “Fine, your majesty. You win. I’ll spill the beans…”

“I thought I was your commander,” Albina uttered suddenly, her countenance displaying legitimate confusion.

“Do you have a preference?” Lucian asked, amused by the brief conversational disruption.

“I am royalty you know,” she said as one of her hands browsed the merchandise. “I would prefer _your majesty_.” She said it with such pokerfaced impassivity that it was almost believable.

Almost.

Lucian bowed deeply. “As you wish, your majesty.”

From Albina, not a giggle or even the hint of a smile. “How about you tell your Majesty the Queen why you and Pokémon aren’t compatible?” Despite the silliness of half the query, she still sounded and looked dead-serious.   

“Okay…” The young man whispered, caving. He wondered where to start. Which was the most pressing issue? Big orange eyes invaded his mind. Not there, he didn’t want to start there. Shoving those orange eyes to the back of his mind, he said, “Well to start, consider what we discussed on our way over here. The objectification of Pokémon. Their being treated, as you pointed out, like gladiators and toys, or dolls. I agree, it’s wrong.”

“Very wrong indeed,” Albina said poignantly. “That’s why the world needs more people like you who befriend Pokémon and treat them with the respect and care they deserve. Notice how I said _befriend_. Not own. Not possess. Too many humans rip Pokémon from their homes, claim custody over them, and force them to fight. They don’t bother getting to know them. Most of these captured Pokémon have it even worse than that. Most are caught and locked away in storage for weeks, months, even years on end. Others are taken to labs for study and scientific experimentation. And a few endure even worse fates than all of those…On the other hand, some Pokémon are lucky. Lucky Pokémon enjoy life with their companions. Lucky Pokémon fight _with_ their Trainers instead of simply _for_ them. In this world, there is nothing more beautiful than a positive relationship between a Trainer and her Pokémon. Or his Pokémon…” Albina tilted her head before scowling. “Excuse me, do you feel like I’m lecturing you?”

Somehow, Lucian’s elbow had landed on the horizontal handlebar of the shopping cart. His hand opened up into a welcoming nest where his cheek nuzzled against it.

He wasn’t bored at all. His eyes were open, his full attention on Albina’s speech.  

“Crap, sorry!” he cried, springing back up. “Bad body language…I’m listening to you, cross my heart.” He made an ‘x’ over his heart. Better body language, he hoped.

Hands on her hips, she gave him a long, enigmatic stare. After what felt like five minutes, or maybe a single minute but still excruciating, she turned and began perusing the merchandise on the side of the aisle. “What is it that’s bothering you, Lucian?” she asked surly, not paying him visual heed. “Get it off your chest. Just tell me.”

Orange invaded his mind, big, soft eyes teeming with tears. Behind them, so much hope only to be crushed by pain.

He pushed that out of his mind. Instead, he decided to underscore something else. Red wasn’t a scapegoat per say, but Lucian remained intent on using him to hide the bigger picture. 

“I guess you could say my father soured my mental image of the quote on quote, _Pokémon Trainer_ ,” he stressed. “I have very few memories of the guy. He was rarely around when I was little. Whenever I asked where he was, mother said he was out training his Pikachu. One day, I realized I hadn’t seen him in a month. That month became many months. And then years. No visits, letters, emails, Holocaster calls. Nothing. When I think of a Trainer, I think of my shitty father...”

Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. His scapegoat father backfired. He wasn’t supposed to tear up like a fucking baby. He hated leaking from his eyeballs, and worst of all he was in public. Fuck.  

He buried his head under the handlebar of the shopping cart, trying not to make the motion too quick as not to garner her attention. Unless she was giving him a sidelong glance through the tint of bug-eyed sunglasses, her attention still seemed to be on the display of backpacks.

“You have a few unresolved issues with him,” she said, “which is unfortunate. Red was a great man. I understand your beef with him, but your father was a Legend.”

“My father was anything but great,” Lucian said, trying not to sound like he was sniveling while also trying not to think of her as being nosy or too tactless. _She’s just trying to help_ , he assured himself. But she didn’t understand. She couldn’t. Blinded by admiration, she just like most of everyone idolized Red the famous former Pokémon League Champion.    

“Maybe in time, you will see your father in a more positive light.”

Lucian’s head sunk further. Wide, wet eyes glared at the teal floor tiles down below. Suddenly, his purple sunglasses leapt off his face, smacking the floor with a sharp, _POP_!   

Unsteady hands scrambled to pick them back up, hoping Albina hadn’t noticed.  

“Daddy issues,” he heard her say as he fitted a purple tint over his burnished eyes. He summoned the courage to look at her, just to see if she might be looking back. Letting his hair fall into his face to hide damp cheeks, he cautiously glanced up.    

Through the purple curtains, he saw black bug-eyes pointed at the front of the shopping cart. She was staring at him.  

She looked baffled. 

“Why are you crying?” she asked, stroking her pointed chin.

Fuck.

She appraised him for another moment before nodding. “I think I get it,” she said, her head bobbing slightly. “I used to hate my parents. Both my father and my mother.”

Compassion swelled inside his heart when she said that. “Yeah, I remember you telling me that,” he rasped, his throat sore. Purple eyebrows floated up on his creasing forehead as he allowed himself to empathize. On top of that, he desperately wanted to change the subject. “In a way, we’re kind of in the same boat,” he scrubbed at damp cheeks with a purple curtain. He cleared his throat. “Are you okay, Albina? With your parents, I mean?”

“I’m absolutely fine,” she said, sounding it too. Her expression was still grim.

Lucian hoped that was the truth. There was a somber air about her. He didn’t know how to describe it exactly. He also didn’t want to dig further, not yet, not too soon as he wanted to lend her the same space he appreciated. But he needed to know if she was really alright.

At the Saffron City Gym, a nagging idea had manifested in his mind, one that wouldn’t go away.  “Would it be too forward to ask why you dislike your parents?” he asked.   

“I used to,” she said with clarity. “As a matter of fact, the three of us are closer now than we’ve ever been.” After she said those words, a reassuring grin formed on her face. As she grinned, she rearranged the strap of her black leather bag, dragging it up higher on her narrow shoulder.

“It’s just, I’ve noticed a pattern,” he said, peeling the purple curtains away. “You’re always talking about pain. It’s been the theme of this entire morning. For example, during both of your Pokémon battles with Ninetails, you told him to embrace his pain. Something along those lines. Hell, not long after we met you even asked me if it felt good. If pain felt good…”

Immediately, Albina pouted. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “Well, I hope you don’t think I’m some sort of masochist.”

Lucian laughed uneasily. “You said it, not me…” He pointed at her and instantly regretted it. That finger floated back down, his hand curling around the handle of the shopping cart. “…But no, not at all…”

Albina placed her hands on the metal end of the cart, long white nails scraping against thin metal bars. “Listen to me Lucian,” she whispered emphatically. “Pain is the only thing that’s real. Everyone has pain. Some people are afraid of confronting it. Not me. Not anymore. Pain is power. I use mine for strength and motivation. It’s the same with Alabaster. When we battle, I remind him to embrace his dark past and release his pain instead of bottling it up. And it’s the same with you. That’s why I’m probing you. I want to know what it is that’s bothering you. I want to know what makes you tick. I want to know what’s holding you back.”       

Lucian’s jaw had dropped. Those words resonated deeply. She was right on the money. Pain imprisoned him. It’s why he slept most of the days away, to forget his own pain and to escape those of others.  

In truth, the latter precipitated his inaction far more than the former did. It wasn’t his own aching heart which kept him at bay. 

It was the pain of others. Specifically, of Pokémon. That was the real reason why he could not become a Pokémon Trainer. When he looked deep into their eyes, something churned inside of them that in turn sparked and swelled inside of him. Their agony. Their suffering. Their pain. That was his curse, his illness, and he did everything he could to avoid it.  

Pain was the singular reason Lucian avoided the Ninetails’ eyes. Whatever plagued Alabaster’s heart, the grief was unbearable.     

More than ever he felt compelled to change the subject. Very uneasily, the young man deployed a non sequitur. 

“Albina, if you want I’ll carry your bag for you. It looks heavy.”

“That’s sweet of you, Lucian,” she said, looking and sounding disappointed, “but not necessary. I’m much, much, much stronger than I look.”

Lucian forced a laugh. “You said _much_ like ten times.”

“No I didn’t,” Albina spat.

He laughed again. This time, it was genuine. He was happy to be discussing something, anything else. “I get it, you’re pretty tough. A total badass, and from what I’ve seen bar none. I’m just giving a suggestion. You could place it in the cart. It’s not like it will jump out and run off somewhere.”   

She shook her head. “I’ve got it, thank you.” A salacious grin formed on her face suddenly, the second Albina had ever granted him. For a guy, that lascivious gesture proved electrifying. “Hey?” she said, her voice hushed. 

“Hi…?” he replied, the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange,” he answered reflexively.

“Orange?” She tilted her head. “I thought it might be purple.”

“Purple gets a silver medal in my book,” he corrected.

“Orange…Alright. Orange it is.”

“What’s yours, your highness?” he asked, his mind at increasing ease as his heart did summersaults.

“Pink,” the Queen answered nonchalantly, detaching a backpack off a rack.

“Typical girl.” His tone was flirtatious and purposely so.

As Albina stunned him with a smirk, she towed a large backpack over the shopping cart before dropping it into the metal basket. It landed with a _clang_.

The straps and waist belt were black, but an orange hue dominated the bulk. Hands on the horizontal metal handle and standing on his toes, Lucian’s vision fell to the Halloween-esque backpack sitting down below where he stared with grave interest.    

“Is this orange backpack,” he began carefully, “which just so happens to be my favorite color…are you going to tell me that this thing is for you…Are you running low on backpacks or something?”

Hands on her hips as her body rocked a bit back and forth, Albina said, “Nope.”

“So, if it’s not for you, should I assume you’re buying it for Einstein?”

Albina shook her head. “Also, no.”

Lucian thought for a moment before pulling another possibility out of his ass, unlikely as he knew it to be. “How about for your sister?”

She shook her head happily. “This is for you.”

Lucian sighed. “Why are you buying me a backpack?”

“It’s a present. You’re going to need it.”

“Are we going camping in the wilderness somewhere?”

“Maybe.”

“Please don’t do this to me Albina…come on!”

“Is there a good reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Actually there is,” Lucian said, the proverbial light bulb going off in his head. “I don’t want you spending any money on me.”

Albina bestowed upon him a cute shrug, her hands parallel to her shoulders. “Money’s not an issue. I make plenty working for the _you-know-who_.”

Lucian’s chin rammed against his sternum in defiance. “I know what you’re doing,” he muttered. “I just started to explain why I can’t become a Pokémon Trainer. Are you not listening?”  

When Albina’s voice rang, Lucian’s head and vision sprang up. “Shut up yah silly Zangoose… and follow meeeeeeeeee!” Arbitrarily sprinting down the rest of aisle number 8, the pert woman in a white evening dress and clicking heels no less veered left before clacking out of sight. With the orange backpack stowed in the cart, a disgruntled Lucian pushed it forward to catch up.

Albina was standing right there on the edge of the aisle, waiting for him.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

Still disgruntled, he couldn’t prevent a smile from surfacing. “You know, you’re kind of being immature. Especially for an IP agent.”

Albina’s hand flew to her face. “Shhhhh,” she shushed with a finger pressed against her lips.

“Oh right,” he replied, now trying to play along, his head revolving frantically, eyes scrutinizing for enemy spies, looking left and right, up and even down at his boots.

Albina muffled mirth. “No, but in all seriousness,” she said, her voice quieter than ever, “don’t blow my cover, alright? Not to anyone. Let’s just call them the _you-know-who_. ”

“Will do, your majesty.”

“You still want to be part of the investigation, right?” she asked, folding arms sheathed in white. “Or have you had a sudden change of heart?”    

“I’m all in,” Lucian said with a positive tone as he drummed on the buggy’s handle.  

“All in huh...Good. See, that’s why I’m buying you a backpack.”

“Alright fine,” he said, caving once again.

Aisle 10 was their next stop.  

As he pushed the cart down the enclosed passage, he found himself bordered by fishing rods, collapsible recliners, and tents among other camping equipment.  

“Please tell me why you’re buying me this crap?” Lucian protested as Albina scrunched not one but two sleeping bags into the cart.

She turned to him. “Patience, yah Zangoose. I have a question for you.”

“What do you want this time?”

“It pertains to your past.” 

Lucian sighed. “This is an interrogation,” he grumbled.   

Albina pouted. “I just want to know what else conflicts you. I know talent when I see it. You could become a superb Pokémon Trainer.”

“Not this again,” he said brusquely. “I’m sorry to let you down, Albina, but I can’t do that. It’s not in the cards. For more reasons than one…ok?”

“Well, Lucian, you see that’s going to be a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s as I told you before my Battle with that rotten witch. I can’t babysit you.”

Firm hands grasped the shopping cart handle, wringing around it. “I thought you wanted me to help the International Police,” he said, his grip intensifying around the strip of metal. “You keep asking me if I want to. Well, I do. I’ve already said yes several times, what’s your problem?”

“Keep your voice down,” she said, glancing around. There were dozens of shoppers wandering about the store, but besides the two of them aisle 12 was vacant.

“The truth is,” Albina said rather petulantly, “I work better on my own. I’m more productive and efficient by myself. I’m a lone wolf, Lucian.” She reached for the two Pokéballs suspended at her hip and unclipped both of them, one in each hand. “Just me, my Pokémon, and Alabaster,” she said, shrugging as they expanded in her grip. “That’s how I do my job best.”  

“What about Einstein?” Lucian said, unconvinced and feeling slighted. Okay, so she couldn’t _babysit_ him. Was she just going to leave him stranded then?

“He is different,” Albina stated, her voice regaining its usual light placidity. She refastened one of the Pokéballs around her belt. “Einstein is my deputy, has been for years. We’re a team. I told you, he’s extremely intelligent. You both are, but each of you excels in different areas. Listen, Lucian. I hate to have to tell you this, I really do, but besides holding yourself back, you’re holding me back. If I’m going to solve this case, which mind you involves the disappearances of dozens of individuals – not just your mother, Sabrina, who is only the latest in this slew of strange phenomenon – I can’t look after you. I just can’t.”

“So what am I supposed to do,” Lucian hissed, anger mounting as he also tried to muffle his pitch. “You want me to take a sabbatical somewhere until this blows over? Just hide and chill and twiddle my thumbs until this blows over. Until my mother is safe and sound. If she is even fucking found. No. NO! I can’t do that. I want to be a part of the solution. You said I could help.”

“That I did. And if I remember correctly, you said you were willing to do whatever it takes to be useful.”

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. He battered his sternum with his jaw again as that recurring sense of helplessness coursed through his veins. “Okay, so what’s the catch?”

“I spoke with my sister earlier.”

“Yeah, you said you had to return her call. What does that have to do with any of this?”

“She’s coming here, Lucian,” Albina explained. “To Saffron City. She’s coming here tonight. And she’s going to help you find your mother.”

“Your sister,” Lucian quacked in disbelief. “Does _she_ work for the _you-know-who_?”

“No, she does not.”

“So why the hell would she get involved?”

“Because I asked her to. She owes me a favor.” Still very serious, Albina’s slightly upturned lips were assuaging as she said, “She’s a very savvy girl, Lucian. Just as capable as I am at detective work, if not more so. Besides, the two of you have something in common.”

“We do?” Lucian huffed, not knowing what to think, his thoughts spiraling. “What could I possibly have in common with your sister…weird hair?”

Albina’s lips parted as if she was surprised. “Make that two things,” she said as she nibbled on a fingernail. “Now that I think about it, the both of you really _do_ have _weird hair_. And…” she gave him a very mischievous look. “Secondly, you both have disproportionately large heads.”  

Lucian’s hands found their way to his mop of hair. Matting down his purple mane, fingers burrowing until they found the scalp of his head, he said self-consciously, “We do?”

Albina nodded. “Take it as a compliment. Both of you are smart and, well, rather exotic. I think she’s going to surprise you, Lucian. I really do. Actually, I know that for a fact.” She giggled lightly before becoming very serious again. “Now, as for me, I have my own mission. Dozens of men and women are disappearing, and I’ve got to figure out what’s happening to all of them. I’ve really got my work cut out for me. But I’m not going to leave you hanging. My sister is going to tag along as you conduct your own personal investigation. Ally is, as well.”

“The Ninetails…?”

“Yup, he’s going to come with you.” Suddenly, she tossed him something, that thing she had been holding.

Catching it, Lucian gaped down at the circular device that sat in his hands. Red on top and white on the bottom, it felt cold. Empty, too. It was Alabaster’s Pokéball.

“But Ninetails is with you–”

“–He’s a free Pokémon. He does whatever he wants. Remember when I told you that the sun follows me?”

The young man managed a slow nod. The sun denoted Alabaster’s ‘Drought’ hidden ability.

“Well now,” Albina uttered, “that sun wants to follow you.”

Lucian didn’t know what to think. “Why would he want follow me?”

“Why? Because Ally likes you! Like’s you a lot… for some reason.” She tilted her head, still looking very solemn. “I jest. You’re a likable guy, Lucian. Why do you think he’s been glued to you for the last few hours? There’s something different about you…and, well, he’s noticed.”

 _A free Pokémon wants to come with me_ , Lucian wondered? _To help me like he had been Albina and Einstein_?

“It’s a real honor,’ said a female voice. “Alabaster is very old and very wise. It’s not easy to gain his trust.”

 _How old was the furry guy_? _800 and-something years old_? _I don’t get it, why in the world would a Ninetails want to follow me_?

Another question sprang in Lucian’s mind, one he verbalized.

“Okay, so if Ninetails really is a free Pokémon, why does he have a Pokéball?”

Albina shrugged. “Certain situations require Alabaster to be inside a Pokéball.”

“Meaning…?”

Another mischievous expression formed on the woman’s face. Flapping her arms like they were wings, she said, “Flying is a good example.”

An interesting admission on her part. Certain situations involved their needing or wanting to take flight. Transporting Ninetails in a Pokéball while another Pokémon took to the air made sense. Obviously, that Pokémon was large enough to carry Albina and Einstein midflight. He tried to picture the two of them riding on a Pokémon’s back as it soared amongst the clouds.

“So that mysterious Pokémon you have can fly?” Lucian posed, motioning to the lonesome Pokéball dangling around her white-clothed waist. It had to be a Dragon type Pokémon, he was sure of it.  

“Oh yes,” Albina answered, still grinning as her limbs returned to her sides. “We can fly…high in the sky. Now, come on yah silly Zangoose, let’s hurry up. We’ve still got a lot on our list.”

“List,” he breathed, startled. “There’s a list?”

“A mental list,” Albina replied, prodding at her temple with a jagged fingernail.

After stuffing the Ninetails’ Pokéball in his left pocket, Lucian followed closely behind the woman in white, being very careful not to get too close and clip her shins. “Hmmmm,” she mused aloud, “backpack, sleeping bags, medical remedies, a flashlight, map, belt…”

She turned to him suddenly. “Lucian, do you give a fuck about your appearance?”

Despite the jumbled mess of thoughts inside his skull, his face broke into a grin. “Many fucks,” he admitted through that grin. “I’m not a philistine, you know. In fact, I’m probably every bit as chicly as you are…”

Albina gave him a playfully puzzled look. “Even more so, I'm sure. I don't usually dress to impress. Blending in should be your objective."  

Lucian shrugged. “Part of the fun in going undercover is the fashion. As I recall, you told me that..."  

Shaking her head but doing so with a still painted smirk, the woman in white whirled around and began gliding into the unknown with the young man in hot pursuit.

“You know, I’m pleasantly surprised,” she said, not looking back.

“About what?”   

“I had you pinned as a Poindexter, but you’re a pretty funny guy.”

When she said that, a sense of calm overcame him. Surreal or genuine, maybe the outside world didn’t have to be so bad. If he found the right people, maybe he could fit in. Hell, a girl even asked him for his number.

Best of all, Albina found him funny.   

“Thanks for giving me a second chance,” he chided teasingly. “Kind of a cruel first impression, but I’m glad I was able to overcome it.” 

“It’s the truth, Lucian. With me, nothing but the truth. Hope it wasn’t too offensive.”

Lucian chuckled. “Maybe it’s time I come clean, too.”

“With what?” Albina asked, her tone one of interest as she glanced back.

“Before you and Einstein introduced yourselves,” he said alongside several authentic snickers, “I thought the two of you were burglars…that or kidnappers. Remember? I accused you of trying to kidnap me…” Upon realizing the irony, he grunted. 

Albina stopped in front of another aisle. Meeting his gaze, she walked around the side of the cart and placed a dry hand on top of one of his, which was white-knuckled as he strangled the handlebar.

“We’re going to find your mother,” she said, giving his clenched fist a tight squeeze. “I swear that to you, Lucian.”  She sounded so sure of herself. Her confidence helped.

Entering the grotto, Albina weaved her way past several other shoppers, most of whom had their own buggies parked nearby. Customers were obstacles for the designated shopping cart driver, a la Lucian, to avoid.

The second such obstacle was a guy with long flowing hair, kind of like his except instead of purple it was more on the ordinary side of the spectrum.

In his hands the guy was holding a boxy item. Distracted, he just stood there like a statue, eyes scanning the label, the girth of his buggy preventing Lucian’s own cumbersome store station wagon from squeezing past.

“Excuse me, sir?” Lucian tried to say as politely as he possibly could.

The guy’s eyes shot up. “Ah, no excuse me pal,” he replied, shifting his cart over and giving Lucian space to pass.

“Thanks,” Lucian said.

“No problem.”

As Lucian wheeled past, a thought surfaced. They both had long hair. He could toss the guy a likeminded compliment. Hopefully it wouldn’t come out awkward.  

But passing by, violet eyes honed in on the box the guy was holding.

‘Desperation Lice Exterminator – For Hair Ravaged by Lice – The Only Treatment When You’re on the Cusp of Mowing It Down.’

As Lucian hit the gas, he imagined a lice squadron parachuting from their brunette base over to Fort Purple.

“What’s with that face?” Albina asked as squeaky wheels rendezvoused.

Lucian’s heart was pounding. “Lice,” he hissed. “That guy over there with hair styled kind of like mine has fucking lice.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, I didn’t fucking examine his scalp under a microscope…but he’s buying some kind of super lice slayer.”

Albina muffled mirth. “Well that sucks,” she said, cupping her mouth.

“You’re not getting it,” Lucian hissed again. “I had to…walk past him.”

This time, Albina’s attempts to suppress laughter failed. “Your first truly public trial,” she giggled. “One of many, Lucian. And look! You survived.”

Lucian pouted. “How do you know?” he asked with sappy undertones. “What if I’m infected?”  

Still grinning, Albina shook her head. “Is that a serious question?”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’re fine.”

“Really?”

“Nah, you’re screwed. Worst case scenario, you have to shave your head.”

By now, Lucian was playing off his comedic strengths. Albina found him funny, and he wanted that impression to stick.  

Fingers twirling in the long purple strands of his rock star hair, he carped, “I can’t go bald. I just can’t. I won’t be able to pull it off as well as Einstein.” Digging his fingers under his glasses and mashing his cheeks, he pretended to weep.

To Lucian’s delight, Albina giggled once again. “You’re right about that,” she said. “The two of you look nothing alike.”

Still mashing his face, Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, still trying to sound and appear playful. Genuine curiosity dwelled behind that facade.

Einstein was more than simply man-pretty. There was no denying that the guy had the face of a model and the body of a Greek god. By stating that the two of them looked different, was Albina hinting or even outright suggesting that she was more attracted to Einstein than she was him?

“Well,” Albina said, biting on one of her long fingernails, “isn’t it obvious?”

“Uh… no,” Lucian said, biting down on his lip.

Ceasing her nail-gnawing, Albina’s face broke into a smirk. “You’re more fashionable than he is,” she said at last. “That’s exactly why we’re here in this aisle. See!”

Lucian glanced around. Much of the lane was devoted to men’s health.

“Einstein is a jock,” the female said before slinking behind him. Two dainty hands landed on his broad shoulders as a feminine voice whispered below his ears, “You’re a different breed of man, Lucian. Because of your high-fashion demands, something I very much approve of by the way, you’re going to need a toothbrush, razor, shaving cream, shampoo, conditioner…Hmmmm–” She plucked a container of _Men’s Moisturizing Cream_ off a shelf. “This,” she said, dumping it in the shopping cart. She glanced around. “Ah, and perhaps this…whatever this is...”

It was a bottle of cologne.

“Men’s Fragrance,” Lucian muttered, trying not to sound pretentious as she inspected the label.

“Hope it’s not rotten,” Albina said, holding the bottle up to her sunglasses.  

“What’s it say?”  

“Executive Exeggutor?” she answered, her tone and posturing assuming the guise of a question. She tilted her head. “Execute and Exude Executive Excellence...what?”

Lucian laughed. “I fucking love it!”

“You sure?” she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

“I haven’t a clue how an Exeggutor might smell…but its aroma must be good enough to turn into incense. Besides, I like that Pokémon.”

“Really?” Albina asked. “I was starting to suspect you didn’t like any of them at all mister I-don’t-wanna-train-Pokémon.”

Lucian gathered his thoughts for a moment. “I love Pokémon,” he finally whispered. “I’ve been studying them my whole life. I’m no professor or anything…” He laughed uneasily, almost sadly. Regaining his composure, “…But I know just about everything there is to know about most of them.”

Albina looked worried. “I think I’m starting to figure you out…SO…what’s so great about Exeggutor in your book?”

“They’re half Psychic,” Lucian answered, allowing himself to grin. “Psychic is one of my two favorite types of Pokémon.”

“Oh yea, what’s the other type?” Albina asked as she placed the rather expensive bottle of Executive Exeggutor cologne in the shopping cart.

“Fairy,” Lucian stated positively.  

“Psychic and Fairy,” Albina said, staring at him for a few moments. “Interesting combination.” She tugged on the edge of the cart. “Let’s go yah Zangoose!”

They encountered a razor, shaving cream, and hair shampoo and conditioner, all of which were tossed into the shopping cart. Wheeling through another aisle, Lucian spotted something he wanted.

“Gum!” he exclaimed, rushing over and exploring the robust selection. “Being in public, I’m really starting to become self-conscious.” He eyed packs of mint and fruit flavors.  

“Good idea,” Albina said, standing next to him. “I didn’t want to say anything, but your breath is awful. When I first met you, as soon as you opened your front door it was the first thing I noticed. Bad breath. I about fainted like a Pokémon.”

Lucian’s stirring heart instantly began to sink like a ship. “Are you serious?” he said, turning towards her while instinctively cupping a hand over his cesspool mouth.

When Albina started giggling, Lucian pouted underneath his fingers. “That was cruel,” he protested, letting his hand fall.  

“I just like messing with you,” she said, punching him playfully in the chest.

Planted next to him, she looked so tiny, her zenith of dark hair several inches below his chin. Below bared shoulders and prominent collar bones, pallid fabric wrapped tightly around her arms, waist, and legs, accentuating delicate features as well as her body’s feminine curves. Maybe it was just the way the light was falling underneath her, but it looked like she was glowing.       

“On a serious note,” the woman in white said with ironic mischievousness, “we’ll get some gum. Peace of mind. Just stop making me feel like an ingenue.”

"You, an ingenue?" Lucian chortled, finding himself enthralled and amused. “Sorry,” he said at last. Not wanting to stare, he turned to the assortment of gum packs hanging from metal rods.  

“So what’s it going be?” she asked, still standing next to him.

Lucian didn’t want to be hasty. A finger pressed against his lips while the other browsed around like the proboscis of a Beautifly, searching for that perfect flower.   

Eventually, Albina started stripping a variety of packs off their racks. “I guess you’ll have to figure out what you like,” she said, pretending to be annoyed as she tossed several different brands and flavors inside the already congested buggy.    

She turned around to face him. Then, tilting her head, “Hey what’s with…what are you–?”

Without another moment’s hesitation, Lucian wrapped an arm around her. Another one curled. Neither dared slide down any lower on her bare back. Inhaling deeply as he pulled her in, he was mindful not to press his lower body against hers. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression.  

What he felt then was indescribable. In Albina he was pretty sure he had a friend. He held her close, squeezing gently. Despite his friendly intentions, his nerves felt scrambled, his face hot.

“Thanks for everything…” he whispered in her ear, her head nestled against his chest. “…For going out of your way to help me. And being patient. We are friends, right?”   

Against his body, he could feel her heart. It was beating very fast. “Of course we are…Lucian…”

“Congratulations,” he half- joked, “you’re literally my first friend.” When he felt tears teem in his eyes, he barricaded the ducts.   

After releasing her, he was surprised by how slowly she pulled away. Inhaling deeply once more, he said, “I was wondering if we could make everything official. Can we exchange numbers?”

The three or four seconds of wholesome impassivity from her seemed to linger for much longer.

In the end, it was worth it.

Below black bug-eyes, a smirk formed on her face. A hand with long white fingernails dipped into a black bag. “What’s your number,” she said, dragging up her Holocaster.   

After he gave her his number and she gave him hers, the Psychic followed the IP agent into the hollow of another aisle, the squeaky wheel squeaking evermore.

By then, Lucian had forgotten about that squeaky discordance completely.  

Inside of him, pandemonium roiled. Newfound confidence clashed with newfound self-consciousness as well as longstanding pessimism. He had a friend and he was pretty sure he was developing a crush. He was discovering a part of himself that he never knew existed. His self-image and identity were changing, as were his desires and goals.

He even found himself having fun. Shopping with a pretty girl and having fun. Not one but two girls had even given him their number.    

Outside, the world wasn’t as bad as he thought. Parts of it were worse, however, much worse than he could have ever dreamed. There were bad people with bad intentions. He had seen them with his own eyes.  

Somewhere out there in the unknown, his mother was at the mercy of bad people.

Lucian silently swore he was going to uncover where she was taken, why, and by whom. Whatever he had to do to find her and save her, he was willing to do it.

Considering the heap of items and equipment in the buggy, a shopping marathon he could never have anticipated, the former exile was very much aware that his life was going to change even more than it already had. In the span of a single day, his entire world was flipped upside down. He had to adapt, and he had to try to do it fast.  

According to Albina, the Ninetails was going to help him in this quest. Her sister was coming along for the ride, too. Hopefully, she was every bit as proficient as Albina promised. Lucian wondered if the two sisters looked alike. They probably had a lot in common.

Apparently he had something in common with her sister, too. As Albina so eloquently put it, they had exotic hair and disproportionately large heads.                   

As they continued shopping, Lucian completely forgot about the squeaky wheel.

However, he couldn’t disregard the foreign weight sitting inside one of his pockets.

Residing inside his left pants pocket was Alabaster’s Pokéball. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The liftoff of Lucian's Pokemon Adventure is at hand. Alabaster, Desiree, and dark secrets await. 
> 
> Next chapter I was originally planning to unveil the 'Pink Pieces of the Past and Present,' which was an extremely intense and elucidating Einstein POV. Too elucidating. After careful consideration I've decided to hold off on outright exposing the truth behind Team Rocket, Albina, Einstein the Ditto, and the enigmatic Red. 
> 
> I want Lucian's journey/investigation to take prescience, as well as the budding & at times strained relationship between his two companions (Ninetails & the Shiny Gardevoir). Lucian will have to discover these secrets for himself, as well as confront the consequences behind knowing the truth. Next Chapter Alabaster has a lengthy and very enlightening/philosophical discussion with Lucian. Desiree is also arriving, along with all the baggage she carries. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	11. Tears

Shopping in the Poke Mart consumed almost four hours of the day. By the time Lucian saw a yellow orb floating in a blue sky, it was already midafternoon.

“Where to your highness?” he asked as he kicked the door, jingle bells clanging against the glass as he held it open with his an outstretched hand.

“Now you’re just being facetious,” Albina said as they both exited the Poké Mart, lugging plastic bags in hands. “But I suppose I should thank you.” Adhering to courtesy, she granted him a grin.  

A bundle of fur on the side of the store, the Ninetails looked as if he hadn’t moved an inch since they started shopping, his long muzzle down on the ground and bordered by front paws, his demeanor lax though also attentive, as if he hadn’t even entertained the idea of falling asleep.

Einstein was another matter entirely. When Lucian booted the door and held it open for Albina, the meathead had been right there next to it, standing tall in a black suit, one of his long arms extended towards the door and black-bug-eyed head tipped by a bald peak no one passing along on the city streets came remotely close to surpassing, let alone reaching. As Lucian followed Albina out of the store, violet eyes glazed over the big guy whose man-pretty face was contorted by a scowl as his extended arm and hand fell to his side. Einstein was not a happy camper. Lucian wondered if the mute was annoyed at not being able to go inside with them, instead forced to remain outside with the Ninetails and wait…for four hours.

Or maybe it was something else.    

The woman in white instructed Lucian to take everything she just purchased and cram it into his backpack. Most of it, anyways. Propped up against the side of the mart, he removed everything from the plastic bags and transferred them to the orange backpack.

His orange backpack.

Considering everything Albina procured for him, he was amazed it all fit and with room to spare. There were bottles of water, towels, a small flashlight with a built in laser pointer, a detailed map of Kanto painted on a thick, archaic piece of parchment, shampoo/conditioner, a razor and shaving cream, moisturizing cream, the Executive Executor cologne, over a dozen packs of gum, and two sleeping bags which folded neatly and weren’t nearly as bulky as he thought they might be. One sleeping bag was for him, and he surmised the other to be for Albina’s sister, Desiree who apparently was coming to Saffron City tonight to help him search for his mother. 

Draping and tying the belt tight around his waist gave him a weird and tingly feeling similar to constipation. There were clips embedded on the sides of the black strap which could be gyrated and loosened to hang, ready to have a Pokéball attached. Something akin to pride swelled inside him for fleeting moments as he took the light yet weighty Pokéball out of his pocket and fastened it to one of the clips. Giving his reflection in the glass of the adjacent Poké Mart a sidelong glance, he spotted a man wearing monochromatic maroon pants and a blazer. Hanging there at his hip was a Pokéball.

“Look at you,” Albina said, nodding and obviously impressed. “Looking good!”

Pride fizzled into dread when she said that. Looking good?  He looked exactly like a Pokémon Trainer.         

“Follow my lead, lackey,” she said with a charming wit that didn’t help very much at all. With a cumbersome orange weight on his shoulders, he did as she asked.    

Next on the agenda was healing the Ninetails’ wounds.

Trailing behind the woman in a white dress, Lucian kept his eyes peeled for a red and white hospital. Instead, they passed by the most ostentatious manmade behemoth in the city, lofty vanity mirrored by none other than the sun itself, a blinding yellow ball reflected upon its towering glass body. Gray bricks narrowed behind it, interwoven with patches of green before disappearing entirely, replaced by freshly cut grass.

“Welcome to the Saffron City Park,” the overarching sign said a short distance up ahead. Seconds later, they passed underneath it.     

The meadowland’s serene atmosphere was not undone by frequent bouts of human and Pokémon mirth. At the back of the Silph Company Headquarters building, literally in its shadow, the Saffron City Park was a wide-open green bowl hewn with table and benches, juvenile trees, and a mini-golf course. Here, people and their Pokémon played tag, Frisbee, and of course miniature golf. At a table a man and his Psyduck were engaged in a game of chess. A family of four and their Butterfree were strewn on a square cloth enjoying a picnic.

Battles in the park were prohibited. 

Next to a small tree with white bark and yellow leaves, Lucian, Albina, and Einstein began treating Alabaster’s wounds.      

In the blazing crest adorning the Ninetails’ head, gold was stained with blood. Nothing Taxon’s Mega Banette did. Despite aggressive and at times mysterious old-lady rhetoric, Alabaster suffered no damage from that battle, not even a scratch. His earlier fight against three Team Rocket Grunts produced a different result.

Considering Lucian’s reluctance to even glance in the Ninetails’ direction, he never even noticed the injuries the fox sustained on his head, front limbs, and left shoulder, cuts and bruises from clashing with a Mightyena and Weavile simultaneously.

Albina must have noticed the worry painted over the Psychic’s face.

“Ally’s been through worse. Let’s give him a Super Potion and clean him up.”

Digging through his orange backpack, she plucked a bottle of Pokémon medicine. She thrust the Super Potion in one of Lucian’s hands before grabbing him around the wrist of the other arm and folding that hand over the first.

“Let’s” was misleading. Per her instruction, Lucian worked solo.  

Avoiding burning cinders for eyes, violets explored golden-white fur where they located nearly a dozen fresh wounds. As he sprayed wherever he found blood, black, and blue, up close he also spotted dozens of dulled, gray scars tracing the front of an otherwise golden body, lines and patches on the Pokémon’s forelimbs, shoulders, and brisket.

“You need to know how to do this,” he heard Albina say as she watched him work on his own. “Concentrate…”

There was a nick on his protrusive snout. Between his button nose and a ruby, a lateral incision was bordered by dried blood. “Close your eyes, Ninetails,” Lucian tried to say with anything but a commanding tone. Even after those rubies fastened shut, he shielded them with a precautionary hand before spraying the furry face with a medical mist, fingers firm and steady as he administered the potion a few times until reaching visual satisfaction. After about ten minutes, only dried blood remained, the incisions sealed shut.

“Wonderful Lucian!” a female voice said with praise as he shook the bottle. It was empty.

Next, she instructed him to clean Ninetails up, like scrupulously washing a car but one much smaller with fur instead of metal and a pulse in place of an engine. Towels just purchased at the Poké Mart and dampened with water were used to get the dried blood off, firm hands gently polishing limbs and ribs, the latter not emaciated but gaunt with a veneer of lean muscle.

To signify a job finished and hopefully well done, Alabaster shook himself dry. Albina gave the young man a round of applause. A few claps, but it felt satisfying nonetheless. “While the two of you search for your mother,” she explained as he arose, “who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into. If Ally gets hurt, I want to make sure you know how to take care of him.”

“Why not just take him to the Pokémon Center?” Lucian posed, having pondered that possibility the entire time. “The acute healthcare is free. Doctors, nurses, Chansey’s are all there with medical expertise and specialized equipment. Ninetails might have to stay there for a few hours inside his Pokéball…maybe even overnight if he was brought late but–”   

 “– _NEVER_ , _EVER_ – trust a Pokémon Center.” Albina’s voice was emphatic.  

“Um, okay…why?”

“The healing process necessities that Pokémon remain in their respective Pokéballs. That makes them very vulnerable.”

“While they’re at a public hospital?”

Albina nodded again, the motion also emphatic. Not being able to evaluate half of her face while wearing those sunglasses made her expression almost an enigma. With only the creasing of lips to judge, she usually looked so neutral. At last, she asked, “Do you remember the Great Fire of Viridian City?”    

Kind of random but it rang bells quickly enough. “Yeah, I remember reading about it,” he answered with a few somber nods. “Huge forest fire in Viridian. Happened early last year, it was all over the news for several days.”

Albina gritted her teeth for some reason. “Several whole days, yes indeed. Do you remember any of the specifics?”

Lucian nodded again. “The fire swept into parts of the city. Burned down a few buildings. It didn’t make it all the way to the Gym but I think a few homes and the Pokémon Center…” His voice trailed off. Was that what she was suggesting, that a Pokémon Center could catch fire and harm those undergoing medical treatment. “You’re worried about a fire?” he asked quietly.  

“What if I told you,” Albina began, “that the fire wasn’t a coincidence, that it was orchestrated by a terrorist organization?”

Lucian’s eyebrows shot up. “The media said it wasn’t suspicious and in the end the Police determined it was natur–”

When Albina shrieked with laughter, Lucian’s trap clamped shut. “The media is a pernicious institution, Lucian,” she said rapidly and with zeal. “News outlets are nothing more than proxies for corrupt governments. The bureaucrats are aware that the fire wasn’t an accident, just like I’m sure they know by now The Big Riddle Inn burning to the ground wasn’t one either.”

Though Lucian was surprised, he found his disbelief waning quickly. “So it was a coordinated attack…”

“Of course it was,” she said, examining the long white fingernails on one of her hands though she didn’t look or sound the least bit jaded. “The media would rather keep the human citizenry uninformed and thus happy and content. After all, the world they’ve created is a utopia, where life is systematic, structured, controlled. Why burden the _Mareeple_ with disturbing incidents? Best to omit them and focus on promoting Pokémon Battles and competitions.”

Her impulsive passion on the subject was rather intriguing. “So,” Lucian posed carefully, “the IP knows who did it?”

“Of course we do. Why don’t you take a crack at it, my apprentice?”

As a fan of heuristic teaching, Lucian appreciated the opportunity. He only needed a brief moment to make deductions. “Alright, let’s see. Viridian City was Team Rocket’s original base of operations before they were ousted by…” he swallowed, “…my father. That could serve as intent in the form of revenge on the city they used to call home…”

Albina tilted her head. 

“Am I close?” he asked hopefully.

She threw on a smirk. Through that smirk, “I’m impressed, Lucian. An apt analysis and very prompt. You’re quick on your feet, but don’t be too hasty.”

“Hasty,” Lucian said, immediately disappointed, “…so I’m wrong?”

Albina shrugged. “Half-wrong and half-right. Firstly, Team Plasma carried out the attack.”

“Plasma,” Lucian repeated, steepling his fingers as he contemplated. “Twice they were defeated over in the Unova Region. What would they be doing in Kanto?” Through the black tint of sunglasses, he could feel her gaze as she waited for him to continue. “…Okay, you mentioned they were working with Team Rocket…”

He could tell Albina was pleased when he said that. “The two are consolidating their efforts,” she explained. “Team Rocket hatched the idea, of that I have no doubt. They have the cash, resources, and influence while Plasma enjoys vast technological prowess and an advanced military arsenal.”

“What kind of tech?” Lucian asked.

“Illegal tech. Firearms, bombs, missiles, you name it and they’re probably hoarding it. Plasma used one of their most potent weapons, Genesect, to carry out the attack.”

“Genescet?” Lucian whispered, shocked. “Team Plasma captured a Mythical Pokémon?”

“Captured?” Albina’s grin widened. “They built the damn thing. Several of them. They’re synthetic Pokémon, much like Porygon but a hundred times larger and a thousand times more powerful. They augmented this one with a Burn Drive and ordered it to use its Techno Blast on the Pokémon Center. The flames spread, damaging an entire neighborhood, razing dozens of homes, all splash damage. Their target was the Pokémon Center and the Pokémon inside of it. Sixteen humans were killed in the fire, doctors, nurses, visitors at the wrong place at the wrong time. Can you guess how many Pokémon died?”

Lucian’s heart felt heavy in his chest, thrashing at what seemed twice as fast as normal. “Probably over a hundred,” he muttered quietly. He didn’t actually want to know the answer.  

Albina emitted an odd laugh. “Well over a-hundred,” she said before gritting her teeth. A pained expression fitted over her face as she stated rather flatly, “Seven-hundred and ninety-eight Pokémon were murdered. Burned alive.” 

“Eight-hundred,” Lucian breathed, imagining the macabre scene, a symphony of agonizing screams as Pokémon idle and trapped in their Pokéballs suffocated and burned, dying slow, agonizing deaths.

“Cooked to a crisp,” Albina’s said as if she was also picturing the slaughter. “A place of rest and healing turned into a giant oven.”      

A plethora of pain… Lucian’s mind was in upheaval.  He looked down at his hands, two clenched fists trembling with rage, stubby and dulled fingernails piercing the moist palms of his hands.     

“You look upset,” Albina said bleakly. He glanced up.

“See, this is why I’m so passionate about being an IP investigator,” she said, her timbre resuming its typical neutrality but her face salvaging something fierce. A bulgy blue vein developed above her sunglasses, an icy tendril throbbing on her bronze forehead as if the synapses in her brain had burst.  “These terrorists must be brought to justice,” she stated calmly as that vein receded. “And keep in mind that in all likelihood these are the same groups who kidnapped your mother.”

“I understand,” he said, nodding. “I’m on board. Hook, line, and sinker. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll fucking do it.”  

“Good. Because, I want you to make me a promise right here, right now. Swear to me that you’ll never, ever leave your Pokémon in a Pokémon Center.”

Lucian managed a nod. It was really happening, he had a Pokéball in his pocket and the Pokémon it belonged to was sitting on his furry haunches right next to him. To defuse the severity of the conversation, he nearly dropped a joke, but thought better of it. “You have my word. If Ninetails needs medical attention, I’ll improvise.”

“My sister is modest,” Albina told him through a shrug, “but she is skilled treating injuries. In this regard, do whatever she tells you to do.”

Lucian nodded. “I’ll follow her lead. I’m excited about meeting her, by the way. Hopefully she’s as supportive and accommodating as you are…”

A friendly smile formed on Albina’s face. “Hey!” she exclaimed, extending a hand and resting it on his shoulder. “Do me a favor Lucian and make me another promise, right here, right now.”

“Alright,” he said, glancing over at her hand before returning to a pair of sunglasses. “What is it?”

“If my sister ever gets hurt, don’t leave her in a Pokémon Center either. Like Ally she’s not very fond of Pokéballs.”

Lucian paused. Scratching the nape of his neck, “Wait, I’m sorry…what?”

“Something wrong?” she asked, removing her hand and returning it to her side.

“Yeah…sorry…I got distracted somehow. I think I heard you wrong.”

“No problem. Which part?”

“Everything…” He chuckled. “I swear I thought you said your sister was a Pokémon.”    

Albina smirked. “Well, she is a Pokémon.”

Lucian didn’t faint or fall. When he dropped down to his ass, he did it by his own accord. Hugging his knees together, he muttered, “I should have guessed. You’ve been planning this since this morning, haven’t you?”

Albina tilted her head. “Maybe.”

“All this time I was wondering what she would be like.” Looking up at the blue sky, he wondered if he should feel slighted. Black bug-eyes stared down at him as he said with a droll severity, “ _So Albina_ , does your sister resemble you at all?”

The woman in white laughed lightly. “Haha, very funny you silly Zangoose. Physically, no, not really, she is a Pokémon after all.”

“If you regard her as your sister, I guess you have to have something in common.”

Albina shook her head. “Not really. A few things, maybe. I met her five years ago and we’ve been awfully close ever since.” She giggled again before expressing with a firm placidity, “I think she has more in common with you than with me.”

“Yeah, you already told me? Weird hair and a big head.”    

Albina dropped down in front of him, her legs forming a pretzel underneath her white gown. An enigmatic face pointed towards him, her legs nuzzled against his boots as she said, “She’s a Psychic like you.”

“A Psychic Pokémon,” he muttered before sighing heavily. “This just keeps getting better and better. Not sure how I feel about this. What species?”   

“A Gardevoir.”

Violet eyes bulged so much their owner feared they might burst. Bolting them shut, Lucian buried his head in his knees, purple tresses mantling legs all the way down to his feet. “Fucking hell,” he practically squawked. “I can’t do this!”

Albina grunted loudly, startling him. “Oh stop it!” she said, restraining her tone. “You want to be a part of this. Your mother’s been kidnapped. My sister’s on her way. There’s no going back now.”

When Lucian unveiled violet eyes bordered by pink, a full-blown lachrymose demeanor, something close to revulsion crossed Albina’s face. “Why are you crying?” she said, her tone betraying not disgust but in fact wholesale incertitude.

Lucian buried his face below his knees again. “Your Pokémon sister is going to remind me of her…”

“Who?”

“Her.”

“Her, who is her I’m not a Psychic you know?”

“A girl I met a long time ago. A Ralts.”

“Ralts, you told me you never had a Pokémon.”

“I was telling the truth!” he practically seethed before banging his head a few times against his knees. “She was going to be my Starter,” he grumbled. “Things…didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” the woman in front of him said, knowing full well it was going to be a chore for him to explain but pressing for details nonetheless.

Lucian sighed. This wasn’t territory he wanted to enter even through introspection. “I’ve never told this to anybody,” he said at last.

“You’ve never had anyone to tell it to.”

Glancing up, “…True,” he conceded. 

“Well go on. Now I’m intrigued.”

He buried his head back between his knees. He could still hear his mother’s voice echoing inside his skull. “ _We’re going to find you one, Lucy. The right one. A Pokémon that will be compatible with you. Will understand you. Will love you_.”

“When I was ten,” Lucian began before halting. His voice was horse, his throat parched. Clearing his throat, he began again, “When I was ten years old, my mother was adamant about finding me a Starter Pokémon. Specifically, she wanted to find me a Psychic type. I didn’t know exactly what she had in mind, but I could tell she had something up her sleeve. We took the Magnet Train early, landing in Goldenrod City before noon. From there, we went south through Route 34. Ralts can be found on route 34…”

Lucian felt his pulse quicken. Every breath he took was audible. Yet, recounting his darkest day was strangely simple. Surprised by how fluidly the story flowed through his lips, he continued. “That was my mother’s plan all along. She wanted to see if I could be paired with a Ralts. Route 34 was where you could find them. Pardon me, where they might find you. That’s where I encountered her. A Ralts. One of them found me.”

“That’s incredible!” Albina’s voice rang. “Ralts only reveal themselves to those who are kind and altruistic. They’re not Pokémon most Trainers simply stumble upon and catch in Pokéballs. They usually choose you, not the other way around.”

“I’m well aware of that fact,” Lucian said, attempting to hide his anger. He wasn’t tearing up because he was downtrodden. The more he divulged and recalled the more indignant he became.  

“So, a Ralts knocked on your door,” a light voice chimed. “So, what happened next?”

“She approached me,” he said, his voice cracking, rage mounting as his lower lip trembled like a leaf caught in the slightest breeze. As he recounted the experience, it was almost like reliving the infuriating trauma which had such a profound impact on his principles and pursuits thereafter, or lack thereof. “I didn’t mean to but I looked inside of her,” he said. “I saw her hopes, her dreams, passions, doubts, fears, her pain…”

 _I don’t have anyone to play with_ , he remembered hearing her say telepathically. 

“Well, you are Psychic,” Albina said, her tone one of understanding. “Naturally you’re able to see bits and pieces of her personality.”

 _Most people aren’t very nice_ , the Ralts informed him. _You seem okay. Wanna play with me?_

Albina’s voice rang again. “Okay so what happened? Why didn’t she come with you?”

Lucian didn’t answer that question directly. “She just wanted someone to play with,” he said as he reminisced. “She was lonely, nervous…but excited to meet me. Then, out of the blue she became frightened.”

“Why? Why was she scared, what happened?”

Unforgiving arms coiled tighter around his knees, hands formed knotted fists as his vision met the tint of dark sunglasses. “Some jackass happened,” an increasingly choleric Lucian grumbled, “that’s what. He was a couple of years older than me back then, taller, bigger than I was. If I was like I am now...” He grabbed his shin with both hands, mangling the flesh and bone with such compression the dents were going to leave bruises. Not caring, not even really noticing, Lucian continued. “Jackass was riding his bike along Route 34. Riding along the trail, he passed by us, looked over and spotted the Ralts. Right place right time for him I guess you could say. He captured her right in front of me.”

Albina shook her head. “How? Wasn’t she with you?”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t mine. She didn’t belong to me or anyone, not yet. She didn’t have a Pokéball, so she was still wild. The jackass on the bike rushed over, called out his Skuntank–”

“–Skuntank!” Albina repeated. "Rotten creature..."    

Lucian nodded. “Yup,” he answered, his tone passive as his hands mangled even harder. “Guy ordered his Skuntank to use Acid Spray on her…direct fucking hit, Super Effective. She tried to defend herself, used Confusion but Skuntank is a Dark type so it fizzled. His Skuntank hit her after that. Socked her right on her face once, twice, several times, over and over again. Crying, bleeding, she ran over to me and grabbed ahold of my leg…that’s when that jackass caught her.”

As he recounted everything that happened, he revived the scene in his mind, her arms and legs wrapped around his shin, stubby pale arms and the tiny legs beneath her gown clinging on for dear life. Below a bowl of blue hair smeared with toxic black venom, pleading orange eyes looked up at him, cuts and bruises all over her ashen face. Something struck her with a thud on the back of the head, on one of her horns. On impact she squealed. Whatever it was, it hurt.

It was a Pokéball.

When the device landed on ground, it sprang open. A gluttonous white light proliferated through its open jaws, and like a luminescent net it enveloped the bloodied, squealing little girl hugging Lucian’s leg and towed her body inside the confines of the new place she would call _home_. Beaten to a pulp, she was too weak to struggle. The Pokéball didn't even budge. 

“ _Gotchya_!” exclaimed the Trainer who caught Ralts, the jackass who wore a satisfied look on his face.

The small, round red and white house sat there on the ground a few feet in front of ten year old Lucian. Beyond that round house, a girl lied inside, swollen orange eyes looking through a barred window.       

 _Catchers keepers, losers weepers,_ her new owner shouted as he picked the round house up and stuffed it in his pocket. Then, he gave the teary-eyed ten year old Lucian the finger. A hefty teenage boy with cloudy gray eyes, the jackass hopped on his bike and peddled down Route 34.     

“Just like that,” Lucian said to Albina as he snapped his fingers, “She was gone.” His other hand throttled blades of grass on the ground,   

Albina’s lips had contorted into a grimace. She looked genuinely upset. More than upset, maybe about half as pissed as he was. “Lucian, that’s awful,” she said, her tone conveying distress, possibly even restrained anger. “I’m so sorry…that must have been incredibly disconcerting, especially at your age. You did say the Trainer who captured her, who practically stole her from you had a Skuntank?”

“Yup,” Lucian muttered. Still reminiscing, he shook his head, eyes screwing shut. “She wanted me to be her friend. She picked me!” He sighed, eyes fluttering open before closing again. “I still see her in my sleep sometimes. Hear her inside my head, begging me to help her somehow. She was afraid of him…I can still feel her tears. Even trapped inside that Pokéball, I could still hear her pleading, squealing, crying. I still feel them. The tears falling down her cheeks…”

When he opened his eyes, Albina was cocking her head. “Tears…Tears…you said you could _feel_ her tears? Explain that?”

Lucian shrugged. “Yup. Happens all the time.” He was aware of the fact that it didn’t make any sense.   

“Tears,” Albina said again, “tears, tears...” Chewing capriciously, she munched on air like something foreign and tangible landed on her tongue. Right then and there, she removed her sunglasses, unveilings vivid scarlet eyes. “Please Lucian,” she said, “Go on.”

“Okay,” Lucian said agreeably, nodding absentmindedly. Lost in thought, he sat still for a brief moment before realizing that that was it, that was the end the story with his should-have-been Starter Pokémon. “Actually, there really isn’t anything more to divulge,” he said at last, realizing it would be impossible to explain his illness to Albina and not wanting to even try. He folded his legs down, forming a pretzel similar to hers, his knees sticking out in front of and past her own. “I’ll never forget her eyes…” he mumbled lowly, “…orange and glassy…and–”

“ _Orange_!” Albina blurted out so loud it made Lucian’s neck and head jolt.

“Yes,” he murmured, vision trying to fold yet held loosely by Albina’s gaze, her head shaking to and fro as scarlet eyes stared blatantly into his own.

Suddenly, Lucian found himself rubbernecking back at her. First, his vision focused on her eyes, vivid scarlet’s. His shitty father, Red, had scarlet eyes too.

Soon after that, his vision ascended ever so slightly where he made a startling discovery.  

Albina didn’t have eyebrows.

He had never noticed it before. Giant black sunglasses usually engulfed her face. Previously when that tint was off his attention dwelled on the vivid scarlet’s, but now inches away something peculiar shone clear and plain as day. Save for faint lines that bronzed forehead was naked and empty. Below the black tresses upon the dome of her head, he couldn’t find a single strand of hair. They weren’t bleached. Unless her eyebrows were invisible there was nothing there.  

Surveying that naked face, Lucian found himself inching closer. _I don’t even think she has eyelashes_ , he realized. Suddenly, that bared face of hers looked alien.   

“You said the Ralts had orange eyes?” Albina’s voice was like the drawing of a sword. Sunglasses flew over her face, though failing to depose of Lucian’s curiosity.

What she posed next, however, made him completely forget about her lacking eyebrows. Her voice but a whisper, “Don’t Ralts have red eyes?”

“Huh?” Lucian loosened as his torrent of thoughts returned to the crux of their original conversation.

“Red eyes,” she repeated. “Ralts have red eyes sort of like mine.”

“Yes, that is true,” Lucian answered with weary certainty. “Believe it or not she was a Shiny Ralts. Blue hair, orange eyes and horns.” 

“A Shiny Ralts!” Albina said, her voice piqued for some reason.

“Yup,” he shrugged. “A _Shiny_ Ralts.”

For some reason, she was also grinning. “How riveting,” she said. “Tell me Lucian, do you believe in destiny?”

“Destiny?” His eyebrows narrowed. “I most certainly do not.”

“Neither do I,” she stated, her smile unwavering. “As a child you met a Shiny Ralts. This must be a coincidence then. You see, my beautiful sister is a Shiny Gardevoir.”

Lucian just stared as Albina placed a finger to her lip, a jagged white nail extending all the way up to the bridge of her nose. “I wonder if they’re one and the same. I mean really, what are the odds?” She arose suddenly, leaving a paralyzed Lucian sitting on his ass all alone. “I’m hungry,” she said, extending to Lucian a hand. Upon grasping that hand, he shot up on two feet like he was wearing a jetpack. The thin arms belonging to the woman in white were wiry. “It’s a bit early for dinner,” she said, “but we never ate lunch. I have an ideal restaurant in mind. Shall we grab a bite?”

Lucian managed to bobble his head forward a few times.

“Great!” Albina chirped before storming off. Einstein stuck by her side like a leech. The Ninetails waited for Lucian’s legs to start working again.

He had to run to catch up.   

“What’s her name?” he spluttered when he got close.   

“Desiree,” Albina answered up ahead, never looking back.

Lucian didn’t know what to think. Albina’s sister wasn’t human, she was a Pokémon, a Shiny no less as well as the same girl he met almost a decade ago. How could that be?

“Albina,” he called as a storm of mixed feelings raged inside him, “How can Gardevoir go with me if she already has a Master?”

“She doesn’t,” the woman in white said very clearly. “Not anymore. Like Ally, Desiree is a free Pokémon.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Next Chapter (12), Ninetails convinces Lucian to become a Pokemon Trainer. Be prepared for philosophy. Secrets surrounding Alabaster, Albina, Einstein, Red, and Lucian's illness will all be revealed. The end of Chapter 12 will also mark the end of Act I. While Act I focused heavily on the past and introducing the characters/world/mysteries/Light/Dark, Act II is going to be gritty, fast-paced, action-packed, romantic, and dynamic. Sex, violence, and war are coming! There will be much lemon, gore, and graphic happenings, this is for mature audiences, as well as intricate sci-fi & dystopian elements. As always, thank you for reading and for any feedback!


	12. The Dark Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is dense. It contains graphic lore, philosophy, and touchy-feely Ninetails dialogue. To those who care about the mysteries in Pokémon Dark, pay close attention, many secrets are revealed. Lucian’s illness is at last understood. Albina's identity is explained. Einstein’s personality is exposed. Red’s fate is inferred. And Alabaster’s motivations are put on display. At the end of this chapter, make sure to take a look at my “Cast’s Bio’s.” I’ve provided a detailed analysis of all my characters for your appraisal. The end of this chapter marks the end of Act I. Act II is in progress. Give kudos & and please leave feedback! Thanks and enjoy!

“And what would you like this evening, sir?” the waitress asked. She waited with a rapt patience, watching as the indecisive meathead took his sweet time to order. Two hands as broad as baseball mittens held the spread of the menu out in front like a newspaper.

“Einstein, darling,” a woman in a white crooned as she leaned over towards him. The V-neck of her evening gown bared an abundance of skin below two prominent collar bones, including tasteful side-boob. For Lucian, that visual was a nice distraction. Without side-boob, his mind might have fallen into disarray.

“What about that one?” Albina pointed to something. “That looks delicious!” Leaning back in her seat, she licked her lips.

While waiting for Einstein who, bless his fucking heart and soul was mute, the waitress was in a trance, leering at the guy who to be fair had the face of a male model. Previously, she had been staring at Lucian who managed to disengage his gaze.

There was a lot on his mind.

Unlike the clerk at the Poké Mart, the waitress was not diffident about intensive eye-contact. A dreamy luster shone in the female’s eyes as they nested comfortably on the man-pretty face which was obscured, at least to Lucian, by the oversized plastic pages of the menu. Luckily, Albina had disowned her menu a long time ago. Thank god for cleavage.  

At last, Einstein made a decision.  

“The Tauros Sirloin!” the woman in white pronounced. “Good choice, darling!”

The fuck? All this time deciding what to order and the brute ended up choosing the exact same meal she did. At least Lucian wouldn’t have to inspect the restaurant again. When Albina ordered her 16 oz. Tauros Sirloin, violet eyes glanced all around, scanning for a Tauros who might be present. The restaurant she had selected was Pokémon friendly, a kind and well-deserved gesture for the Ninetails. Trainers could let their Pokémon be out and about, seated right next to them, enjoying the fine dining just like their Masters. Furry, feathery, scaly, all were welcome. As a matter of fact, the Ninetails was sitting on the same booth as Lucian, four paws and furry haunches on the hard cushion and nine tails scrunched and curling all around his slight frame.

Across the table from purple and gold, white and black were seated on arched chairs.

Thankfully, there wasn’t a Tauros in sight. To be a Pokémon on the menu, that would have to be awkward. There was a wide selection of cuisine, from the more common Miltank burgers, Magikarp cakes, Remoraid sticks, Basculin fillets, and Grilled Pidgey to delicacies like Wailmer meat, Slowpoke tails, and even Fried Farfetch’d despite the Flying Pokémon’s status on the endangered species list. 

“How would you like your steak cooked?” the leering waitress asked Einstein, her tone exceedingly friendly.  

Albina answered for the mute. “Make it like mine.”

“Rare Tauros Sirloins for the both of you!” the waitress announced with vigor. Lucian couldn’t tell for sure if her friendly attitude was genuine or fake, but he was leaning towards the latter. Either she enjoyed her job or she was a decent actress. “Give me just a moment,” she chirped with enthusiasm. Holding a tablet below her chin, she worked the touch screen with swift prods.

To the delight of the waitress the Ninetails ordered himself. Speaking to all of them telepathically, the pseudo-Psychic Pokémon requested a bowl of Deluxe Poké Puffs.

With everyone taken care of, the pert attendant thanked each of them and ambled off to attend another table.

Giving Lucian a palpably hard look through her sunglasses, Albina asked, “Are you a vegetarian?”

Lucian shook his head. “Vegan,” he answered, more than happy to talk with the talking cleavage.

Above that cleavage, pink lips moved started moving again. “What a fascinating life choice,” she said with rich neutrality. “No Pokémon in your belly and before today, no Pokémon on your belt. I am so very glad Alabaster and Desiree are going with you.”

As alarming as this news was, Lucian wanted to purge it from his thoughts. Orange eyes, too. Albina’s exodus was approaching. He needed to focus. Time was of the essence. All he wanted to do while dining with her was get to know her better, maybe even figure out if she liked him. They were friends. Was there a chance she felt as strongly about him as he did her? Too soon maybe, but maybe not. Was something else there, anything? Attraction?  

“Two slabs of meat,” he said comically, eyeing the investigators across the table.  Raising a brow at Albina, he said inquisitively, “Both dripping with blood…interesting, very interesting.”

The woman smirked. With a jagged fingernail pointed towards him, she said, “You think you’re so cultured and civilized with your veggie burger, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Lucian replied, blushing slightly as he shook his head and extended hands. He knew she was kidding, but he didn’t want her or anyone to surmise for even an instant that his being a vegan gave him a haughty air. That couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“I hope you choke on it,” Albina spat before throwing him a teasing smirk.  

He forced a smile. In truth, he wasn’t too keen about veggie burgers, but he wasn’t paying for the meal. Ordering something intricate and expensive would be rude. On top of all that, a dreadful feeling had spawned in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t thirsty. In fact, he felt something close to nauseous.

All he wanted to do was be distracted and do a little bit of detective work on Albina regarding her feelings towards him.

However, while Albina played with her steak knife all he could do was stare. Not even cleavage could supplant this distraction.

Twirling the knife around, the wooden handle maneuvered upon her hand like a break dancer, whirling on her palm and twining between fingers, the toothed blade swiveling with frightening erraticism yet never once grazing flesh, for it if did there would certainly be a squirt of blood. The hazardous display of skill was nothing short of amazing.

 _Where do you even learn to do that_?

She must have noticed his staring. Still spinning the blade like it was as benign as a pencil, “So,” she said, “Are you excited about seeing Desiree again?”

“I am excited,” he replied. That was a lie. He was thrilled. Ecstatic. Terrified. He also didn’t want to focus on the Gardevoir right now.

“As soon as she calls,” Albina said as she grasped the knife with one hand, the index finger of the other gliding along its edge, “I’ll give her an update of what’s happening. I wonder what she’ll think.”

“Same here,” Lucian said softly, hoping their conversation would steer elsewhere.

“Now I get it!” she crooned with sudden fervor before slamming the knife down on the table, hard too, everything shook with a clatter, the silverware, glasses of water, Lucian’s thoughts. “Now I know why you’ve never raised any Pokémon!” she exclaimed. “Your Starter was stolen.” Smirking, “See Lucian, these things tend to work themselves out. You must be _so happy_.”

Happy? His mother had been kidnapped. Besides, Albina didn’t get it, not all of it. Certainly that incident, his brief past with Desiree as a Ralts was a major part of why he didn’t raise any Pokémon, why he was angry, lonely, depressed, why he was disenchanted with society, his pursuits curbed and passions dented. But there was something else, something which took precedent.

His curse. His illness. Lucian was allergic to Pokémon.     

Fingers tipped with long anemic nails caressed the handle of the knife. “She’s really cute you know,” the woman in white said almost blandly. Almost. Lucian’s eyes narrowed.   

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, shrugging as wary eyes met the shadow of sunglasses. “What are you insinuating?”

Bared bronze shoulders shrugged back. “My dear Desiree is a gorgeous young lady,” Albina said very clearly. “Just stating a fact. Don’t you want to know more about her? She’s going to be here soon. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the next Train.”

Violet eyes shifted to the window. Inside the restaurant, they had an alarmingly good view of the Magnet Train Station. Granted, most lines were part of the metro system. The Magnet Train Station primarily served the metropolitan area. Saffron City. But every hour, almost on the dot, a high-speed rail zipped towards the station at speeds exceeding 200 m/h. That was the real Magnet Train. The journey between the Johto Region and Kanto, specifically Goldenrod City and Saffron, took almost exactly two hours.  

Lucian’s attention returned to the dark tint of sunglasses. “I guess so,” he said, nodding weakly at first before silently admitting that he really would like to know more about the Gardevoir.  

“Of course you do,” Albina uttered, fervor once again seeping through her light voice.

“How old is she?” he asked curiously.  

“She is twenty-one years old.”

Lucian was nineteen. When they first met almost a decade ago, he was ten. She must have been twelve. She was a couple of years older than he. Okay, cool.

“My dear sister is modest,” Albina continued. “A bit shy. Girl has a big heart. Too big, if you ask me. I love this Gardevoir to death, Lucian. When she gets here, I hope you take good care of her.”

“I’ll do my best,” he tried to say as confidently as he could. That newfound confidence he felt at the Poké Mart had been waning by the hour.    

“I hope your best is good enough,” Albina told him.

“Me too,” he whispered. _You’re not cut out for this_ , he reminded himself. _You’re going to fail. You’re going to let her down_. _She’s a Pokémon you dumbass. You’re allergic to Pokémon. How is she going to help you when you won’t be able to help her?_

“Albina,” he said, his mind plagued with doubt, “anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“About your sister. Anything else you should tell me?” He thought for a moment as Albina remained stoic, sunglasses staring in silence. “What makes Desiree happy?” he finally asked.

Pink lips parted to enunciate, but nothing came out of her mouth. “…Happy…” she said at last, her voice soothing and trancelike.  

Somehow, the woman in white misunderstood. “What does your sister like?” he said, reformatting the question.

Albina still didn’t answer. Why was she hesitating? The IP investigator sitting across the table with a limp jaw and divided lips, she looked genuinely stumped. “She’s your sister,” Lucian pointed out, “surely you know what makes her happy.”

As Albina’s mouth closed, her pink lips twitched once, then twice. Those lips opened again. “Listen Lucian, there’s something you should know about my sister.”

“Alright, then tell me,” he said, his curiosity spilling.

“Desiree is a misanthropist,” Albina stated flatly.

Lucian frowned. “She doesn’t like people…”

Albina nodded. “With me as an exception, she doesn’t trust humans. In fact, she’s afraid of us. Her former Trainer…you met him briefly. That human who flipped you off, who stole her from you, the jackass as you called him. Well, his name is Gray, and Gray abused her.”

A sharp shiver shot up Lucian’s spine. “Oh my god…” he breathed. “Are you…” No shit, she was being dead serious. His hands tried to tighten into fists but failed. He felt weak, sick, and not just from Albina’s admission.

Orange eyes had haunted him for years. He always wondered why she was crying, what that Ralts was so afraid of. Ralts could read minds as well as detect the emotions of others. She knew who Lucian was, that’s why she felt comfortable revealing herself to him. Likewise, she could see Gray for what he was, a jackass. More than just a jackass.  

 _Catchers keepers_ , _losers weepers_.  

Violet eyes met the tint of sunglasses. His voice low and raspy, “It’s all my fault,” he breathed.

“No it isn’t,” Albina retorted promptly. “You were ten. There was nothing you could do.”

Lucian shook his head. That lovely Pokémon was abused. What kind of abuse? Physical, emotional, sexual? Was she neglected or harmed? If she was harmed did he hit her, or something even worse? What was the extent of the…damage? Oh god. The world was a disgusting, despicable place.

“Albina…Is she…is she okay?”

“Desiree survived. Now that she’s free, she’s doing a lot better. And just to let you know, Gray won’t be hurting anyone else. Not anymore, not ever again. He’s _rotting_ away behind bars right now.” Somehow, those last few words Albina articulated betrayed positivity. “Listen, Lucian,” she said, her tone still rather upbeat, “There are a lot of bad Trainers out there. Bad Trainers, shitty human beings, same thing. I don’t think you’re one of them. I hope not.” She threw on a mischievous smirk. “If I’m wrong about you Lucian, if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll kill yah. Got it?”

Though she was making one hell of a joke to defuse the tension, there was a lacquer of solemnity coated over it that did not go unnoticed. Overwhelmed by grief, shock, shame, he tried to complement her banter. “I doubt you would kill me. You’d have the big guy do it.” He motioned over to Einstein.

A pleasant expression radiated from Albina’s face as she shook her head of raven hair. “Oh no, no – no – no. If you hurt my _Shiny_ sister, I’ll kill you myself.”

Gripping the handle of the knife, she pointed the blade in his direction. Towards his chest.

Then, she flung it into the air. The blade spun two feet above her head like a disk. Wood and pointy metal performing a Rapid Spin, Lucian’s eyes discerned two gleams, the burnish of the spinning blade and below it much like background decoration the flash of pearly whites. Just the way the light was hitting that _great white smile_ of hers, the set of teeth between those pink lips looked razor sharp, triangular almost like those of a Sharpedo. For a moment, that strange optical illusion even made it appear as if there were more than two rows of pointy teeth in her mouth.    

A hand shot out like a bronze snake and Albina snatched that knife out of the air. The shiny silver stuck out of her clutch like a pointed fin. As Lucian gaped hard, she jabbed the knife in his direction, thrusting several times in quick succession. After she was finished with her fancy performance, she calmly placed the knife back on the table and leaned back in her chair, hands like a pillow behind her head as she smiled evermore.

“That was badass,” he gasped, still gaping.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she quipped.    

Lucian was beyond impressed, but that positive feeling tapered quickly. Gloom and doom gnawed on his heart, not about getting stabbed, she was kidding, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t do much good. “Don’t worry,” he said, his vision folding as he stared down at his lap, “you won’t have to murder me. I could never hurt her. I won’t let you down Albina…and, well…” His voice trailed off. “I hope I don’t let her down either.”

“As do I,” a light voice chimed. “I’m trusting you, Lucian. I don’t think you’re capable of hurting her, but what are you going to do if someone else tries to do it?”

The young man thought about that for a moment, about someone trying to harm orange eyes. They were brimming with tears. Distraught by that idea, his violet eyes scrambled around the room before settling on the knife. It sat there on the table in front of Albina, inert, motionless. Suddenly, it quivered. It quivered again. Reaching out with his hand, he pulled with no strings attached using his mind, exercising psychokinesis.  

The knife slid across the table before taking to the air and flying to his waiting hand. Just before it impaled his palm, the blade flipped around and he snatched the handle out of the air. “If someone tries to hurt her,” he said, gripping the knife, his grasp as firm as his voice, “I’ll hurt them.”

Albina laughed a very pleasant, genuine kind laugh. “That’s pretty dark for you.”

“Sorry,” he said, slightly embarrassed. He lowered the knife.

“No, I like it,” she said, sounding it too. “Can I have my knife back?”

“Uh, sure,” Lucian said, slowly nudging it across the table using his mind.   

“That’s the kind of mentality you need,” Albina told him. “Team Rocket, Team Plasma, those scum don’t show mercy. They hurt anyone who gets in their way, Pokémon, human, it doesn’t matter. Keep that in mind while searching for your mother. Be prepared to do what is necessary, Lucian. In taking care of my sister and Ally, do whatever is necessary to protect them, as well.”

The young man tried to make an earnest joke. “I get the feeling they’re the ones who are going to be doing the protecting.”

Albina shook her head. “They are going to need you as much as you will them.”

An enormous weight landed on top of him when she said that, as if a Braviary or a Mandibuzz just tacked there on his shoulders. Now that it was perched there, it was going to roost. An oversized beak began pecking him relentlessly, piercing his skull, gouging out his eyes, blood spurting everywhere, metaphorically speaking.  

Before today there wasn’t a Pokéball in existence which had his fingerprints on it. No one had ever placed their faith in him like this before. Managing a party was more than just a lot of responsibility. Training Pokémon, caring for them, raising them, and as Albina touched upon juggling their strengths, weaknesses, and personalities. As far as he could tell, most Trainers fulfilled their needs and worked towards their goals first and foremost while forgetting those of their Pokémon.

To Lucian, Pokémon were no different than people. They had complicated pasts, issues, and various idiosyncrasies. Desiree was proof of that. The Shiny Ralts he had met when he was ten, a girl with a pale, innocent face and big orange eyes, someone who just wanted a friend was captured by an abusive Trainer. Contemplating the possibilities, the short and long-term damage inflicted upon her, Lucian wanted to know what happened but at the same time, he didn’t.

Whatever happened, he wanted to be able to support her as best as he could. But how could he work with her, manage her problems, hell how could he even give her a hug with this curse?

His illness, Pokémon allergies.

It’s not that he didn’t want to help, to be there for her, that he thought he might be unwilling to do so. On the contrary, this was what he dreamed of while sleeping in his bed twelve-plus hours of almost every day. A second chance.  

Damned allergies made it impossible to train let alone befriend any Pokémon. Petrol waited behind violet eyes which ignited when Lucian gazed into those of certain Pokémon. Over the course of nineteen years, he had never been able to intimately interact with any of them. Hell, he had been unable to formally meet his own mother’s Alakazam. Every time she tried to introduce him, he couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds without his eyes blazing. Psychics like his mother couldn’t explain it. Doctors came from all over the world to evaluate him, to identify his illness and determine a remedy.

All of them failed outright.     

Small talk. Lighthearted conversation was the only way to negate the bleak thoughts simmering in his mind.

Yet, for some reason violet eyes found the nearby window. In the distance and through the fog of the night, upon the lofty railway tracks a train was approaching. It was moving fast, even from far away you could tell it was shooting towards the station like a bolt of lightning.

The Magnet Train. The time was 7:59 p.m. Right on time.  

 _There’s a good chance a Shiny Gardevoir is on that Train_ , he thought. He hoped so. And yet, he prayed to the fairytale gods that she wouldn’t be aboard that Train.     

Small talk. Distractions. Turning away from the window, he said to the detective with a hasty pace, “What do you like to do?”

Raven tresses fell to the side as she tilted her head. “What?”

“Your interests, hobbies, passions, what are they?” he asked, slowing down, calming down. “Besides solving cases?”

Shrugging bronzed shoulders, “Pokémon are my passion.”

Lucian didn’t want to discuss Pokémon. He had to push Desiree out of his mind. “Do you like reading?” he asked rather hopefully. “Crime novels? Mysteries?”

“But of course,” she answered suavely, almost sensually. Lucian felt his lips tilt up. Albina was a very intoxicating lady, there was no denying that.

“Are you familiar with Thomas Harris’s work?”

“Hmmm,” she placed a finger to her lips. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Harris,” Lucian said through a grin, “is the guy who created Hannibal Lector.”

Albina frowned, though her bummed face was unmistakably good-natured. “Am I supposed to know who that is?” she asked, her tone a humorous melancholy.

“Uh, yeah,” Lucian chided with impish displeasure. “Hannibal Lector, part-time physiatrist full-time psychopathic maniac with a penchant for murdering people and cooking them for dinner. I read all about Doctor Lector when I was young. Really young, way back in the day. In hindsight, probably too young.” He laughed, amused and hoping she would be too.

That tanned, black-bug-eyed face was blank as she stated, “Never heard of him.”

“You know,” Lucian said waving his hand with trying passion, “Serial killer, cannibal, genius! Honestly, Harris must been a maniac himself to conceive of such a sadistic character.”

A black-bug-eyed head tilted on its axis.  

“The film is more distinguished,” Lucian said. Restless with ferment, his foot thumping below the table, he allowed himself to get into the conversation. “The Silence of the Maraweep. You’ve seen it.”

Exhaling deeply, as if she was jaded, Albina shook her head. “I haven’t seen it. Never even heard of it.”

“What!?” Lucian squawked, genuinely surprised as he crossed his arms. Lowering his voice and more than happy to explain, he said, “An investigator like you would appreciate it more than most. Drama, suspense, a giant mystery for _Jodie Foster_ to solve, right up your alley Albina.” He grinned at her, forced but his best nonetheless. “Maybe we could watch it together sometime.”

A smirk formed on her face, a friendly one, but her words did not fit that face. “Maybe. Kind of sounds like amateur hour to me, to be honest. We’re in the middle of solving a case too yah know. Pretty elaborate all by its lonesome, as you’re well-aware.”

Lucian tried not to be deterred. “True, but fiction can be a fun distraction. The movie gets intense, very edgy. Hannibal Lector, the serial killer who also plays the part of a quasi-protagonist…it’s complicated. Anyway, he’s portrayed by _the Anthony Hopkins_ who delivers nothing short of a satiating performance. In one scene, a very disgustingly innovative Lector bites this unsuspecting guy’s face off and wears it like a mask to elude the police?” Lucian forced another grin as he eyed each of his detective acquaintances, anticipating an intrigued reaction.

When Albina uttered nonchalantly, “I’ve seen worse,” that stressed grin and trying animation of his vanished. While he was detailing a movie, she was exposed to the real thing on weekly or hell, probably a daily basis.

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, biting his tongue rather hard. He suppressed any outward signs of it as he muttered, “I guess I’d better start expecting the unexpected…”

Albina nodded in earnest. “While searching for your mother, yes, keep an open mind. But keep your chin up, too. She’s fine and she’s going to be fine, Lucian. Listen, don’t think about that right now. Any of it. Be positive.”

“Right,” he said with a spurt of trying nods. Advising him to stay positive reminded him of his mother. That was her mantra. “ _There’s a time and place for everything_ …” her voice echoed, “… _except for negativity_. _Let the good eclipse the bad_.”

His mother used to say that, and now she was gone.

Inhaling deeply, he exhaled with a slightly rising vigor as he tried to take heed to their dual guidance.

No more distractions. He had to come to grips with reality. Tonight he was going to be reunited with a girl who had orange eyes. A beautiful young woman who had suffered abuse at the hands of…no, think positive. She was a bit shy, smart, resourceful, cute…Albina said she was cute, though the lady was a Pokémon of course. Although, Gardevoir’s were humanesque, feminine, kind of sexy…no wait, what was he thinking? That was insane.   

What else? Oh yeah! The Gardevoir was a free Pokémon. After everything she had been through, he was glad she had earned that freedom. She deserved nothing less.

 _You’re going to fail her. You’re going to let her down_ … _Pipe down with that crap dumbass_! He had to expunge those thoughts. He had to stay positive.      

Despite trying not to think about her, and failing utterly, anxiety propelled a question. “Albina…has Desiree texted you back? Is she here?”

The woman in white sighed heavily, as if she was waiting, had been waiting for a long time. Her hand glided over towards Einstein, who was holding the handles of the black bag sitting in his lap with a clenched fist. His other hand was resting on his face, smothering a mouth and jaw. That man-pretty face, even though his hand and sunglasses were draped over most of it like some kind of crude mask, there was that unplaceable familiarity which loitered, as if that face belonged to someone Lucian once knew or had seen somewhere, someplace, maybe in passing or on the internet.

Faces did tend to blend together.  

Stagnant as a statue and glancing indiscriminately from behind thick black sunglasses, Einstein remained that way even as Albina dug around in their bag of gadgets, gizmos, or whatever they stored inside.   

“ _Ssss-so tall. Sss-so handsssssome. Ssss-so real. And sss-such a pretty nose. Not too long and not too short. Not too wide and not too thin. Jusssst the right sizssssse for my massssssterpiece. The perfect ssssssize. Purrrrrrfect. Purrrrrrfection. Sssssuch a pretty nose. I must have that nose_!”  

Lucian’s head spun like a merry go round. Where the fuck was that voice coming from? Vision found golden fur sitting there next to him before shooting around the room like a pinball, eyeing Pokémon planted in chairs situated around tables, dining with their Trainers, eating, laughing, making the various sounds Pokémon make.

Clearly the Psychic had overhead a Pokémon’s thoughts, bending the Light, discerning the surface thoughts circulating inside someone’s mind, becoming receptive of their perception like it was being broadcast directly to his brain. But who the hell did those thoughts belong to? It wasn’t Ninetails, definitely not him.

Nose? Whose nose?

Sure enough there was a Probopass over on the other side of the restaurant, sitting at a long table with over a dozen rowdy patrons and other Pokémon. Arched above a bushy black beard, Probopass had a very large red nose.

 _There it is again_ , Lucian thought _._ Like a slimy spider it squirmed into his ear and began crawling inside his skull.

“ _Can’t change. Not yet, musssst wait, must ssssettle, but sssssso many flawssss, so many imperfections! Sssssuch a pretty piece to add to my art. Wait. Musssst wait, must sss-settle. Ssssettling. Waiting. Thinking about ssssomething else. My imagination! It’s much prettier in here. Hello my Queen. You are ssssso very beautiful. Wrath, you’re alive! Ssssso tall you are, yessssss you are. Charlotte! You’re here too! So very pretty inside me. What did you say!? Perrrrrfect? ME…? Thank you, all of you! Thank you ssssso much!_ ”

Albina’s faint voice was weighty, like gravity yanking his attention back down to Earth. “Still nothing,” she said with trace discontent, Holocaster in hand and thumbs mashing on the touchscreen wildly. She glanced up at Lucian who was holding his disheveled head, hands pressed against both temples. “Just texted her,” she informed him. “In a bit, I’ll try calling again…Hey! What’s with that – she’s fine Lucian. Trust me, there’s no reason to worry. Although, the fact that you are worried about her is good thing. I’m glad she’s going with you.”

Albina’s heavier voice wasn’t heavy enough. Her spoken words couldn’t drown the spider’s slime out. _Stop_ , he demanded angrily, holding his skull with quivering hands. _Get the fuck out of my head!_

The slimy spider persisted.   

_Birdssss! The two Pidgeottossss. I remember them, yesssssssss, I remember everything! Imagination! A preshissss-ssssight, yesssss, ssssuch lovely art, sssso beautiful. Sssso pretty. Givesssss me ideasssss, it doesssss, yesssss it doesssss._

“Lucian?” That was Albina again.

“What?” he managed, his heart pounding, his fingers crossed. _Please fuck off_ , he shouted inside his head. At long last, the slimy spider squirmed out of his earlobe and crawled away. He could only hope it wouldn’t come back.   

“You look rather pale,” the woman in white said as she bit her white nails. “Something’s wrong…” Nail in mouth, she turned her head and gave the quiet, tranquil-looking meathead sitting beside her a long stare.

Alabaster: _You feel cold, human._

Relieved, the Psychic leaned back in the booth. This time, the voice inside his head wasn’t slimy. It was a furry one he recognized. It belonged to the Ninetails.

“ _I appreciate the concern_ ,” he whispered, shining his Light back at golden fur. “ _But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. One-hundred percent…_ ”

Albina was still looking over her shoulder. “I’m good,” he lied to her, garnering her attention. “Just nervous about meeting Desiree. That’s all.” Sunglasses pointed in Lucian’s direction, she wore a frown.  

The waitress arrived with their food, rolling a mobile platform with wheels on the bottom and food-laden plates on top. Parking it next to their table, she took each dish and placed them in front of their owners one by one.

“Thanks,” Lucian said, managing a courteous grin despite being disgruntled by the slimy spider.

“Anything for you,” the spirited waitress replied, beaming at all of them before wheeling off.    

Albina must have been hungry. One minute her steak was all there in her plate, the next only a puddle of crimson juice remained.

Meanwhile, Lucian was busy thoroughly chewing his second bite. After swallowing, “You’re a fast eater,” he mentioned to the woman who was leaning back in her chair, gnawing on her nails with nothing else left to chew.

“And you’re slow,” she mumbled vaguely, as if she was somewhere else deep in thought.  

“He’s the Slowpoke,” Lucian pointed out. He motioned over to Einstein, who had yet to eat a single bite. The big guy appeared to be playing with his food. Slicing off a hunk, no more like a morsel with a knife, he impaled it with a fork and proceeded to dither, sliding the scrap around in his plate as if he wasn’t hungry or satisfied with his choice of cuisine. The guy was a full head taller than a 6’3” Lucian and built like a motherfucking Machoke. Not hungry? There was no way he got that big without stuffing his face.  

“Eat, Einstein,” Albina said, her light voice disciplinary. She was being serious. Suddenly, the thought of them sleeping together seemed out of place, as if her relationship with him was more instructive, even maternal. Lucian hoped so. A mostly intact veggie burger sitting in his hands, the Psychic young man prepared his next topic of discussion.  

Something caught his eye. A distraction and not a good one, either.

Einstein slowly, carefully drew the steak-scrap up to his lips, but instead of opening his mouth, the fork veered off from away its expected path. Both of his hands took off, one guiding the fork and the other escorting below, a wide palm catching juice and blood dripping from above. Both hands flew in congruence past a broad shoulder where they hovered in front of a pair of black bug-eyes, the sunglasses sitting on Albina’s face.

“For me?” she whispered in surprise. Carefully, gently, the club clutching the silver fork with a sliver of meat stuck on the end inched to a new destination, the port that was Albina’s small mouth. Lips parted. The bite of food sailed inside. When she closed her mouth, she tugged her neck back as Einstein pulled the fork away, his upper body lurched and head leaning forward, sunglasses pointed at her and eyes behind them watching the outcome.

Pink lips puckered from surprise as the woman chewed. Even her face, olive from long days in the sun burned beet red. She was clearly bedazzled by the gesture.

“Darling,” she said after swallowing, “that was…so sweet!” A hand perched above her left breast, over her heart as she emitted an erotic sigh that could easily be construed as a moan.

Jealousy surged inside Lucian at that moment, fleeting moments. When he at last grasped the fact that Albina and Einstein had a thing and his crush on her was frivolous and fanciful, the jealously that spawned was negated, swept away by the harsh ripples of reality. The singular hope he had clung to was dashed. The emotional distraction he so desperately wanted collapsed. Now, everything else took presentence. That wasn’t a Braviary or a Mandibuzz. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. Albina had kept him grounded. She was his staple, but not for much longer. His mother was gone. Any second Desiree was going to arrive and he was going to be thrust to the frontlines of the unknown alone with two Pokémon.

The devoted and overtly cheerful waitress visited their table. Eyes scrutinized customers as well as their plates. Albina’s was barren. Einstein was busy tearing off slivers of his steak and feeding them to Albina, her mouth open and waiting like a baby bird. The veggie burger sitting on Lucian’s plate was cold, nibbled on a few times before being neglected. As for the Ninetails, his muzzle was buried in Poke Puffs, all variously flavored. The furry fox was almost finished with his meal.

“How is everything?” the waitress asked, her eyes shifting.

“It’s perfect,” Lucian mumbled. “Absolutely perfect.”

A sharp _clatter_ pierced the air around them, startling Lucian, Albina, the waitress, even the Ninetails whose muzzle jerked up. When Einstein dropped his fork, it clattered on the bowl, metal rattling upon ivory, the circular plate made of Donphan tusks.

“Forgive him,” Albina cried, patting Einstein’s arm, the sleeve of his black suit. “He’s such a klutz,” she said, “and a slob.” Pink lips creased into a grin which elicited form the waitress a few genial giggles. “We’re having a lovely time, thank you,” Albina assured her. “Everything is fine. Just fine.” 

“Glad to hear it,” the waitress beamed back. She looked around and beamed at all of them before wandering off.

“ _Purrrrrrfect_!”

Lucian jolted back in his seat. 

“Y _ou’re an immmmmmposssssster! Ugly sss-slime. Not beautiful – Not handsssssome – Not cute – Not real. Nobody lovessss you, not really, how could they? Ugly! You’re ugly! UGLY! Oh, how much longer musssssst I wait? The Angel sss-sings of purrrrfection. Once they open The Gate, perfection will await. Till the pretty nose opensssss it up, I mussst wait inside my Imagination…NO! Not that, pleasssse not that! Wrath? No Wrath! Water Gun! Water Gun! Wrath? Water Gun! Wrath? WRATH! …Wrath…_ ”

“Fucking fuck!” Lucian groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. The spider had returned, cramming its slimy, slippery body in his ear and wiggling around next to his brain.  

Another internal voice, this one much softer, its origins furry. “ _What’s wrong, human_?” the Ninetails asked. 

“ _Ssssssuch a pretty nose_.”

“Voices…inside,” Lucian groaned out loud again before grimacing. It didn’t hurt. There was no pain associated with the slimy spider whatsoever. It was just flat-out eerie and disconcerting and he wanted it to go away and never return.      

At that very moment, the spider, the taste of guacamole, his qualms surrounding the Ninetails and Desiree, even the fate of his mother were all put on hold.

It was the most random act of randomness he had ever witnessed in person. Right there in front of him, Albina grabbed Einstein by the pink tie, wrenched hard and after hauling him close she licked his face like it was dessert. Then and there, the two of them started an intense make out session, sunglasses clipping and clacking as lips meshed and tongues swirled. A small bronze hand grabbed Einstein’s fat fist, spread it open and placed it on her head of hair. Fat fingers crawled slowly at first before running around the raven tresses and exploring its density. The long white nails of Albina’s willowy hand found a burly neck, where they clawed with a hard passion.

If Lucian was jealous of Einstein’s little act of romance, the feeling he felt now was indescribable.      

After each passing minute, Albina’s lust intensified. Despite Einstein’s physical presence, he almost looked like a victim, albeit a very willing one as foamy drool gleamed below his laboring lips.

The lady was the instigator to everything. She was licking him, licking his nose like it was a lollipop. Before long, she mounted him, knees bound to his upper thighs as her round white ass across the table pointed towards Lucian’s face.    

Sitting a few feet away from the action, a wanton warzone where he was close enough to reach out and pinch Albina’s swaying butt, Lucian tried not to gape as the hairs on his skin stood vigilant. By now his heart, which had been a sinking ship was lying alone and forgotten on the bottom of the ocean that was his stomach. The longer he gaped, the more it made him wish he had an intense connection with someone else.

Tattooed black wings were on full display below raven hair as Albina straddled the guy in the suit and did unseemly things with her tongue to his face. Gripping the lapels to a black suit like they were the reins on a Rapidash, Albina suddenly twisted her body around.

A meaty hand was cupped around her left breast. That hand remained there, squeezing as the woman wearing a white evening dress said, appearing and sounding completely and utterly unabashed, “I think Ally wants to talk to you, Lucian. The two of you could use some privacy.”  

Still staring and startled, the purple-haired young man said nothing. The irony in her words was beyond belief.  What were she and Einstein even doing, hooking up in the middle of a Pokémon-friendly and family-friendly restaurant? _People are staring_ , he thought, _I’m not the only one_.

With deft movement, Albina hopped off the Rapidash saddle that was Einstein’s lap. At first Lucian thought they were done, but the salacious smirk she was wearing clearly advertised otherwise. “You stay here with Ally,” she said. “I’m going to give my sister a call. I’ll be right back.” Her head jerked down to the guy with slobber all over his face. “Come with me, my love.” Her head jolted back to Lucian. “Don’t – go – anywhere!”

The meathead arose. A meaty head soared high into the air but violet eyes remained glued to the enormous bulge of meat in one of his pants legs. Good lord.   

Albina left in quite a hurry, Einstein in hot pursuit. Whereto, Lucian assumed outside where she could get better reception, even though they were already stationed next to a window.

Or maybe she was searching for a surreptitious spot to have public sex with the guy in the black suit who had two-and-a-half legs. A bit of an hyperbole, but still.

 _Expect the unexpected_ , Lucian thought as he shut his eyes. Was he jealous, or just terribly, miserably lonely? For years, what he wanted more than anything, even a father figure was a relationship with a Pokémon. Yet, he couldn’t raise Pokémon because of his illness.    

Suddenly, it dawned on him. He felt angry. And he should. Anger was justified. That beautiful young woman who toyed with his heart was setting him up for disaster…okay maybe he had unrealistic expectations about her. To be fair, Albina did save his life earlier that morning. She was sympathetic, supportive, funny, but despite his mental health issues, she was trying to turn him into a Pokémon Trainer. She kept mentioning how he could be great. She boasted about his genetics. That was what she wanted all along.

She didn’t get it. 

Orange eyes, crimson cinders, those he would have to shun. This, all of it was a giant fucking mistake. He was allergic to Pokémon.

Alabaster: _Lot on your mind, human_?

That _whisper_ pulled his vision left, where a Pokémon with a golden-white coat and nine curling swirls sat next to him.

Violet grazed crimson.    

Immediately, violet and everything that dwelled behind them burned. Wincing pitifully, Lucian’s vision fled. The slimy spider was creepy, but at least that was just a voice inside his head. Pain was something else, something tangible. Nerves and reflexes were the product of millions of years of physiological evolution. Bodily pain was a feeling the mind instinctually sought to avoid.

Shaky hand sprang up to his temple, his head ten times heavier than it usually felt sitting there atop his neck and shoulders. Against his palm, his perspiring forehead felt hot to the touch, as if his temperature had skyrocketed into a fever.

That migraine endured, taking its sweet time and departing little by little. This was the principle reason he couldn’t train Pokémon. That was his curse, his illness. When he looked Pokémon in the eyes, they caused him pain. He was allergic.   

 _The human still refuses to look at me_. 

As Lucian inadvertently intercepted what were no doubt the Ninetails’ thoughts, the young Psychic remembered what Albina told him. Apparently the Ninetails wished to speak with him. Sure enough, that’s exactly what the furry Pokémon began doing.    

Alabaster: _I cannot know what you are thinking, but what I watch and see is a human encumbered, be it by grief or guilt or anger. Stumbling inside your head, you stumble outside of it as well. You have barely touched your food and drink. When you smile with your human lips, I see it for what it really is, a faux smile. I’ve watched you walk and run with your long human legs, each stride short and hollow, following the pack with neither grace nor purpose. Not walking, not running, stumbling._

Lucian responded with telepathic nonchalance. “ _Lot on my mind_ … _you got it right the first time Ninetails_.” 

Alabaster: _The Everlasting Ember rises and then it falls. Warm and cold. Day and night. Disparity is a part of life. Your mother has been taken, but someone else is coming home._    

Lucian nearly turned to face the Ninetails, but resisted, not wanting to risk another migraine. How did that fur-ball know the Gardevoir was at forefront of his thoughts? “ _Yeah, I guess so_ ,” the Psychic acknowledged using his mind. “ _Weird day for me that keeps getting weirder_.”

Alabaster: _Not just for you. There are others here._

Lucian didn’t follow up with an answer. He wasn’t asked a direct question and he had nothing to say. At that moment, he didn’t want to ask the Ninetails anything. He just wanted to be left alone inside his thoughts, to ponder today and prepare for tomorrow. He was always alone. In spite of craving more than anything a friend to talk to, at that moment he yearned for familiar monotony.  

The Ninetails whispered to him again. This time, that tiny voice sounded sad.  

Alabaster: _I have been waiting for your curiosity to emerge. You are conflicted, yet you do not seek council. Perhaps you do not ask questions because you are not yet ready for answers. Perhaps, human, you are afraid of them._

Lucian’s face convulsed into a grimace as he whispered, “ _I am not afraid, Ninetails._ _There’s just a lot for me to mull at the moment_. _Got it_?”

Alabaster: _I have a question for you. One that has been burning a hole in my mind._

Lucian sighed heavily. “ _Alright, fine_ ,” he whispered, leaning back on the booth. _“What’s up_?”

Alabaster: _Why do your eyes refuse to meet my own?_

Lucian found himself break into another instant sweat, like a child caught in the act of committing a grievous wrong. Restraining his nerves as he dabbed at his runny forehead with the sleeve of his arm, he whispered, “ _I don’t mean to be disrespectful Ninetails_. _I swear. It’s not like that at all_.”

Alabaster: _Then why won’t you look upon me_? _Even now, you refuse to grace my eyes with your own._

In the corner of violets, Lucian discerned the blaze of rubies. Still sitting on his haunches, the Ninetails had turned to face him, staring him down and asking that he show respect.

Lucian: _I can’t. You wouldn’t understand._  

When the Ninetails snarled, Lucian flinched. Sitting not two feet away from the fuming furry Pokémon, Lucian sunk down in his seat, butt-cheeks sliding past the cushion where an arched back took over. Not at all comfortable but accepting the position as a kind of provisional flagellation, he summoned the courage to apologize.

“ _I’m sorry Ninetails_ ,” he whispered telepathically. “ _I told you, I don’t mean to be disrespectful. It’s not something I can control._ ”

When Ninetails whispered back, he didn’t sound hotheaded. In fact, that internal tremor was small, soft, somber.

Alabaster: _You will answer my previous question, but first human, remind me. How many years have you lived under the rays of our sky father?_

Lucian: _I’m nineteen._

Alabaster: _Nineteen years of age. That is the same answer you gave to Albina when she asked. I’ve been listening to you, watching you. Such hasty lives you live_. _Now, another question._

Lucian answered by gulping audibly.

Alabaster: _What is our purpose in life?_

Upon digesting that question, the young man accidently banged the back of his head against the wood of the booth. Cushions covered the seats but above them, rigid fucking wood. _“You can’t be serious_?” he shouted telepathically, rubbing his head as he propped himself into a more comfortable position.

Alabaster: _I am_.

A thousand pieces of Light invaded Lucian’s mind. The Big Bang, accidents – lots and lots of fucking accidents, religion, evolution, existentialism, nihilism, hedonism, reproduction and intercourse; a sperm burrowing into an egg, Einstein blowing his load inside a wild and randomly horny Albina…fucking hell not that.   

“ _That’s a subjective question_ ,” the pressured young man whispered after feeling as confident as he could about his answer. “ _No one knows for sure. Everyone develops their own ideas and beliefs, but in the end they’re all theories and opinions, products of one’s background, upbringing, environment, education, creed, religion, friends, family, biology…yeah that pretty much sums it up._   

Alabaster: _That is incorrect, human._

Lucian: _You’re fucking with me?_

Alabaster: _I am not_.

 _Let me guess,_ Lucian thought to himself, _he is going to invoke God, the sun or Arceus or whatever deity he worships_. He didn’t dare shine that on the Ninetails, though. Instead, he waited.

When Alabaster whispered, that internal voice was so faint Lucian had had to mash his ears together to stave off the outside clamor. “ _You humans. Such a short time you have to crawl, to walk, to run. The wick in your candle burns down quickly. Your kind searches for meaning when the truth has been there all along, shining brightly overhead like the warm sun. For your kind, perhaps most days are cloudy, and as you search for the light all you see above is gray. Or perhaps you never look up, eyes always cast out in front. In your rush to live, to walk, to run, seldom do you look around. I’ve been watching you, human with purple hair and violet eyes, watching as you stumble. Your flame flickers. You walk by yourself. You run all alone. And when you fall and crawl, nobody is there to pick you up. Your birthmother tended your flame, putting in what she could, but a mother can only do so much. Now that she is gone, you are lost._

_“You like so many others stray from the beaten path, from a most singular and simple truth. You exist for a simple reason, we all do, we live for a universal purpose. To tend flames. Yet, you tend to none._

Lucian: _I think I get the metaphor. Tending flames, we’re supposed to be altruistic_ …

Alabaster: _No. You are supposed to tend your own flame. To help **yourself** is your true purpose in this life. And by helping yourself first, that is how you can truly help others. Grow your flame into a warm bonfire, know yourself, love yourself, and when you are ready share your warmth with others, search for those who fall and crawl, find them and pick them up, breathe into them the gift of life, give to them and sometimes they will give back to you. Warmth given is warmth shared. _

Lucian: _So you’re suggesting that selfishness produces selflessness_?

Alabaster: _Semantics, human, but yes I am_. _Run with me._

“ _Running_ ,” a slightly flippant Lucian muttered as he flailed around, legs kicking and arms slashing, pretending to sprint as he sat flat on his ass. The Ninetails continued undeterred.

Ninetails: _“Why do we exist? Why are we created? I will tell you why. Because our creators believed our lives would enhance their own, that by nurturing our flame such time and effort and warmth given would in turn cultivate the fire brewing inside of them. Love is born from avarice. Life bequeathed is life gained. Time devoted to others is fulfillment received._

Lucian: _I can stop you right there. I was an accident. My father didn’t want me. He doesn’t love me, never did. He doesn’t even know me_ … _I’m lucky my mom didn’t… that she gave a shit._

Alabaster: _You are estranged with your father. In this regard human, we are kindred. I never knew my father’s flame. Wars waged by humans extinguished his life while my birthmother carried mine safely in her warm womb. Nonetheless, we exist now because others allowed it, because another flame was willing to tend our own. Perhaps your father stumbled and fell, but that does not change your purpose. Our purpose. We exist to give others what they deserve, even if we were not so fortunate. Give your warmth to another, and sometimes they will give back to you. By helping someone else, you help yourself_.

Lucian: _I’m sorry Ninetails, but I am officially baffled...what are you trying to do here?_

Alabaster: _I’m trying to tend your flame._

Lucian: _A Pokémon is trying to help me…a pity-party, great. I wish it was that easy._

Alabaster: _I am not trying to help you. I’m trying to convince you to help yourself. You are very warm human. Why do you refuse to give your warmth? Warmth given is warmth shared. By helping someone else, you help yourself. You have your burdens, but you are not alone. There are others here. Look around. The flames of Pokémon are not as bright as those of you humans. Ours flicker in the dark, cold and forlorn while yours burn warm and bright. We whom flicker and shiver are many. Today, human, there is much disparity and most of your kind forgets how lucky you truly are. Every single one of you humans, as sit upon your congenital thrones of hegemony, rarely do you glance down. There are others here. We who dwell down below are always looking up at the throne, watching, listening, waiting._

_“Of course, even upon the exalted human plane, chaos reigns. Some human flames flicker fainter than others. Some flames are sparked but not nurtured, snuffed by neglect or doused by anger. Many of you humans crawl or fall while so many others of your kind yet walk and run. Too many of you approach the finish line without ever looking back, obsessed with personal greed, lust, ambition, building up your own effigy all the while disregarding the candles which flicker with but a semblance of hope._

_“Perhaps your flame is one of these, flickering faintly in the dark. But whose fault is that? A human falling and crawling, burning all alone, warm but tending no flame, not even his own. No Pokémon tends your flame because you refuse to look for them. You’re not even trying. You may blame your father, you may blame a cruel world, but do not forget to point one of your human fingers at a mirror. I know why you are alone. You Psychic human with your purple hair and violet eyes are afraid."_

“I’m not afraid,” Lucian shouted, incense rising. “What the fuck are you talking about!?” He glanced up. The waitress was standing there right next to the table, a jug of water in hand as she gawked with what somehow appeared to be a jovial expression on her face.

“Refill?” she chirped.

Lucian had barely even fondled the straw to his tall glass of water. The ice had all melted. That glass was already filled to the brim.  

“Um, sure…” he mumbled awkwardly.

At his admission, she poured literally a trickle of clear liquid into his already brimming glass. As she did, she asked a question. “Long day, babe?”

“Very long day,” he answered before sighing heavily. Then, allowing himself to drop a joke, “Thank you for noticing,” he groaned.   

“Anything for you,” the waitress teased back before checking behind her, eyes glancing all around. “What was up with your friends?” she asked, still looking over her shoulder.   

“What do you mean?”

Turning to face him, she raised an eyebrow before placing the jug of icy water on the table. Compressing both of her hands into mouths, she forced the two of them together, the jaws of her hand puppets clashing and locking together. Those two hands of hers, inspired by Albina and Einstein, were smooching with a raunchy appetite.

“Oh that,” Lucian said, recalling the shameless woman in white licking a nose like it was a lollipop. “Yeah, I don’t know how to explain that.”

“That was the craziest bit of PDA I think I’ve seen,” the waitress told him. “I thought those two were going to rip each other’s clothes off and do it on the table.” She gave Lucian a coy look. He complemented it with a grin.

“Glad I’m not the only one who that that was weird,” he told her, relief in his voice. He chuckled a few times. “Thank you for saying that.”   

“Anything for you,” she chirped, winking at him and causing Lucian to blush slightly. “So, can I get you anything else?” she asked. “Dessert?”

He shook his head. “Nah, to be honest I’m not that hungry.”

“You sure?”

Lucian nodded positively.

The waitress glanced over her shoulder before looking down at him. Smirking, dimples and teeth both on display, she said with muffled interest, “I’m hungry. How about a BJ?”

Lucian almost choked. Covering his mouth as he expelled several coughs, timid eyes glanced up at the waitress whose smile widened and cheek indentations deepened. Bending her head down next to his, she whispered, “Your brother’s taller, but you’re the cuter one.”

“Brother…” Lucian muttered, his throat still heaving, his heart racing. “I don’t hav–”

“Shhhhh,” she cooed, cutting him off first with her lungs and then a finger. Placing her finger to his lips, “It’s been a long day for me. It’s been one for you too, I can tell. This won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes is all I need. I know what I’m doing.” She puckered her lips before glancing over her shoulder. “Just don’t tell my boss, okay babe?”

As her finger left Lucian’s mouth, his lips deepened. She was right about one thing, at least. It had been a long ass day.   

“Meet me in the lady’s restroom,” she told him, her muffled tone dense with anticipation as voracious brown eyes practically undressed him. “I’ll be in the stall on the far right, the biggest one hugging the wall.” 

Lucian shook his head slowly at first, then defiantly. He barely considered her proposal and never even entertained the thought. “No thanks.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?” Her lungs leaked disappointment.

“Because I don’t want to use you,” he said decisively.

“You’re not,” the waitress replied, looking coy again. A hand dove underneath the table and suddenly, Lucian felt it land on his thigh. “I’m using you,” she said as her hand started climbing.

A thrill shot up Lucian’s leg, but he ignored it. Grabbing her hand, he held it at bay as gently as he could. “What are you doing?”

Her hand tried to squirm past, to resume its climb, but his grip was firm.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whimpered. Glancing all around, when her attention refastened to Lucian that once friendly facade of hers crumbled into something on the brink of menacing. Perhaps that was her true nature. That sulky look didn’t faze him one bit. One hand holding hers, the other crept to his face and removed his sunglasses.

Setting those glasses on the table as he inhaled deeply, he exhaled this: “I suspected you were acting. Pretty convincing, I must admit. If it means something to you, I am sorry you’ve had a long day. I’ve had one too, you don’t even know. About your offer, even from a stranger as attractive as you are, yeah, not happening. I don’t do that. Find somebody else.”     

She gaped for several moments before her eyes narrowed. Lucian glared right back with naked violet eyes.

“Are you freaking serious?” she asked.  

“Extremely freaking serious,” he replied.

Not bothering to hide her disdain, “Fine,” she spat, “Ready for the bill?”

Unsullied, he shrugged comfortably. “Nope. I’m waiting for my friends.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes to check up on you,” she spat again before grabbing the jug of water and marching away with swaying hips, her stride announcing that he just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

 _That was close_ , he thought as he scratched his thigh. Above all else, he was thankful he didn’t succumb to doing something he knew he would later regret, as tempting as it might have been. After scratching his eye, he placed his purple sunglasses back on his face and mumbled out loud, “I really need to start expecting the unexpected.”  

“ _What you need is a friend_.”   

Lucian frowned. On the left, in the corner of his eye there was a golden-white outline sitting next to him. How he wished he could look at the Pokémon without his allergies kicking in. Then he remembered his outburst moments before. Swirls curled around a golden-white frame. One of those swirls thumped lightly on the booth, as if the creature was waiting. Feeling guilty, Lucian whispered telepathically, “S _orry, Ninetails_ … _for raising my voice at you. I think I understand what you’re saying, but that doesn’t accurately describe me. I’m not afraid_.”

All of a sudden, with a swift grace the Ninetails fell into his lap, a long snout on one thigh and a soft furry brisket on the other. At the end of the elegant outline bunched up upon Lucian’s legs were nine tails, several of them limp and strewn out on the edge of the booth and the rest dangling to the ground below. Not knowing how to react, Lucian’s stiff arms and clammy hands hovered above the bundle of fur like a couple of helicopters. The drum in his chest had to be pounding at least a hundred beats per minute.   

Alabaster: _I think it’s time you tell me why you flinch. If you are unafraid, why do your violet eyes refuse to meet my gaze?_

Lucian gulped. _I’m telling you…not even you will understand._

Alabaster: _Try me_.

Lucian: _I have…an illness_.

Alabaster: _My condolences. What kind of illness_?

Lucian: _It’s some kind of Pokémon allergy. It’s hard to explain._

Alabaster: _Explain away. What are your symptoms_? 

Lucian: _Pain._    

Alabaster: _What hurts?_

Lucian’s breathing was heavy and audible. There was a Ninetails lying in his lap and he was about to try to explain to the elegant ball of fur his illness, something no one could understand, not even his own Psychic mother. “ _My eyes_. _When I look at you Ninetails, at your eyes and most Pokémon for that matter, my mother’s Alakazam for example, I can’t maintain eye-contact. If I do, it’s like my vision, my head, they’re on fire_. _It’s some kind of allergy. Apparently, I’m the only one in the entire world who suffers from it…_ ” Violet eyes brimmed with tears, but he held them at bay.

Alabaster: _Well now, aren’t you the rarity_?

Lucian: _I told you, you wouldn’t understand._

Alabaster: _Don’t be brash, human. I know what it is that assails you. I had begun to suspect as much._

“You do?” Lucian practically shouted again, not caring about making a public scene as his heart rattled in his chest. “My curse?”

Alabaster: _To see the Dark Flame is not a curse, nor is it an illness or an allergy. To know the Dark is the rarest of gifts._

“Dark?” Lucian uttered. And then, through a silent Psychic whisper,“ _I thought you said I could see the Light_?”

Alabaster: _It would seem you can see both. Light and Dark. The mind and the soul. Light inhabits the minds of all creatures. Likewise, a Dark Flame burns deep within our core. The Dark Flame is akin to the soul. They are one and the same._

Lucian shook his head. “I still don’t…” He grunted, still trying to get accustomed to speaking lithely through his mind. _I don’t get it. What’s the difference? Explain it again… please?_

Alabaster: _I assume you have heard the expression that the eyes are windows._

Lucian: _Yes._

Alabaster: _Think of it that way. When you look into a Pokémon’s eyes, you are looking through a window. True psychics can see the Light. But as they explore the mind, they fail to find a deeper truth. The soul. The Dark. Some have said that our Flames burn brighter than our Light. That the Dark is brighter, more revealing, and more blinding all the same. Our Dark Flames are tainted by scars. Scars are memories. Some scars are warm, others cold or scalding. Warm scars feed the flame. Cold scars smother it. Scalding scars aggravate it. All take their toll, all taint, all reshape.”_

Lucian: _I’m sorry…I’m stuck_. _This is heavy._

Alabaster: _I will tend your Flame, human. Where are you_?

Lucian: _Still stuck on the mind and the soul_. _You’re kind of speaking in riddles_. _Or whispering._  

Alabaster: _Duly noted. Forgive me, I do not mean to puzzle you yet further. Alright, try this. Light exists as thoughts and ideas, hopes, secrets, fears. A wildfire of words which tell us what._

Lucian: _Alright, I got that much. I think I understand the Light_. _Light tells us what…got it._

Alabaster: _Dark is different. Dark is vivid memory. Dark is painted truth. Dark shows why._

Lucian contemplated for a moment. He said the Dark was brighter than the Light. Brighter, more revealing, and more blinding. While the Light told, the Dark showed. So why did the latter also have to be so painful?

Lucian: _So the voice I hear from you right now is your Light. Words you shine on me. But the burning feeling, like heat emanating from your eyes…is your Dark?_

Alabaster: _Correct_. _You can see my mind but unlike other Psychics, you can also see my soul. My Dark Flame. Get too close and you will feel it, too._

Lucian: _That fits the definition of curse to me, Ninetails_. _I can deal with random voices inside my head. But the addition of physical discomfort is overbearing._

Alabaster: _Ignorance born of fear. You are afraid. Never have you allowed your eyes to explore the depths of the Dark. Some might call you a Dark Dreamer, one who can see the Flame, see it and feel it. Others might brand you a Soul Eater, one who feeds upon the Dark_.

Lucian: _I am **not** **afraid** , but right about now Ninetails, I’m not really liking the sound of that_. _Soul Eater. That doesn’t sound very good._  

Alabaster: _Some might brand you, Soul Eater. I favor the title, Dark Dreamer_.

Lucian: _Dark Dreamer… at least there’s a name for an outcast like me_. _Good to know I guess.._.

As the Psychic and professed Dark Dreamer sighed, his fatigued arms went limp. He just barely caught them in time to prevent a collision with the bundle of fur lying in his lap.   

Alabaster: _All beings possess Dark. A Dark Flame glows inside us all. But an infinitesimal few can truly comprehend it. Dark Pokémon tap into their own soul, using their Flame to emit Dark energy. During my Battle with Mega Banette, I summoned the Dark raging inside me to make the Ghost submit. True Dark Pokémon do the same, but even most of them cannot fathom the Deep Dark from other beings, their Flames. Not like a Dark Dreamer can. To see the Flames of Pokémon is a gift unique to your species. You call yourself an outcast, but you are not alone, not in this regard. In the stretch my ember has endured, I have encountered two others who could feast upon the Dark._

Lucian: _Dark Dreamers, Soul Eaters, whatever you call them…I’m not by myself here?_

Alabaster: _You are the third of your species._   

Lucian: _Species…okay so someone else suffers from this illness_ …

Alabaster: _Illness_! _Don’t make me laugh_.

Lying there in his lap, the Ninetails winced with quiet yet extensive vigor, his brisket heaving against Lucian’s leg. That was him laughing. The Ninetails was really laughing, not with him but at him. Come one!  

Alabaster: _Forgive me. My Flame finds such folly funny_.

Lucian suppressed a sigh. The Ninetails couldn’t truly understand. He couldn’t bend Light, nor could he see Dark. Or eat it, or whatever. It’s not like he was speaking from experience. For nineteen years Lucian had dealt with this allergy. Only now was he figuring out exactly what it was.

“ _So_ ,” the Dark Dreamer whispered, trying to allay vexation as well as restrain his nerves, “ _You mentioned there were two others like me_?”

Alabaster: _I did. I was waiting for your curiosity to emerge._

Lucian: _Fine. You’ve got me, I’m hooked, alright? So tell me. Please?_

Alabaster: _One of them was a remarkable human. A Trainer who possessed a unique bond with Pokémon. A Dark Dreamer like you. Kin to you, as well. Perhaps you will recognize the moniker. Red_.     

At that surprise, Lucian’s face contorted. “No!” he hissed, compelled to saturate the air with his anger but mindful not to disseminate it too far. “Not my fucking failure of a father,” he groaned between gritted teeth.  

 _There is no doubt,_ Alabaster whispered telepathically. _He could perceive the Dark Flame, as can you. Your mother gave you her Psychic gifts. It appears you inherited your father’s Dark eyes as well._

“How can you possibly know that?” 

Alabaster: _I’ve met him_. _You look just like him. You have the same human face, the face of your father._

Wary arms and trembling hands dropped at last where they landed on a furry coat. Lucian hardly noticed, and Alabaster didn’t seem to mind as the Psychic whispered urgently, “ _You met my father? Where…When…tell me Ninetails_? _Please_!?”

The fur-ball took his sweet time before explaining what he forecasted. It was like the Pokémon was sadistically enjoying the torment of his human ignorance, something Lucian knew was not at all the case. Still, the anticipation was fucking murder.

At last, a tiny voice quaked in Lucian’s skull as the Pokémon shined his Light upon the human’s mind. 

Alabaster: _Before fire and brimstone ravaged Cinnabar Island, I resided there with my former Master. Trainers seldom visited the sleeping volcano. Those who did were hardly a match at all for our Fire. When your father entered my Master’s domain, at first I saw only a kit. He was younger than you are now. As he drew closer, I began to suspect there was something different about the boy. Those eyes of his were strange. I had never seen humans eyes like that before. They burned brighter than the surrounding magma, like two rising suns on a beautiful day. But there was more to him than his burning red eyes._

 _“He was a quiet human. During our Battle, rarely did my ears hear him bark commands. He did not need to raise his voice. His Flame, kindred with the Flames of his Pokémon made him one with his Pokémon. His understanding of them was without equal. As a Dark Dreamer, he was born with one of the two gifts you possess. The gift of seeing, feeling, knowing the Flames of those he loved.  I fought valiantly against your father. I defeated his Blastoise in single combat. However, against his Pikachu and the Flame they shared, my Master and I never had a chance_.

Awestruck and spiraling, the purple-haired youth thought carefully for several moments before verbalizing a reaction through a whisper.

Lucian: _You said my father didn’t need to bark…or speak, or whatever…how do you know he wasn’t shining his Light on them instead? Maybe he was a Psychic, like my mother and me. Maybe he was whispering telepathically._

Alabaster: _A prudent theory, human. However, allow me to douse your doubt. I attempted to shine my Light upon your father. To commend his victory. That Light never reached him. His Dark devoured my Light_. _Think of your father like a Dark type Pokémon. His body radiated a Black Light. Dark. And Dark trumps Light._   

Lucian grunted, his mind – his Light – still considering additional avenues. _Okay, but if I’m like my father, why doesn’t my Dark devour your Light when you shine upon me?_

Alabaster: _You are unique. A Psychic and a Dark Dreamer. One with the Light and one with the Dark_. _You can see both. Though I do wonder if true Psychics, powerful ones who bend Light may also do so unto you. Would their Light reach your mind, or would your Dark find it and swallow it up first? That I cannot know._

Bending Light into another being was analogous to reading their mind, much like a mental invasion. According to the Ninetails, Psychic Pokémon as well as some humans could force their Light into others, effectively seeing their thoughts and even harvesting their secrets.

“ _You’re saying my mind might be protected from the snooping eyes of other benders_?” Lucian whispered with hopeful curiosity.

Alabaster: _Unfortunately, my knowledge on this subject is elementary, but yes, that is a distinct possibility. Tell me, human. Are a bender? I heard you whisper, ‘ **Other Benders**.’_

Even though the Ninetails wasn’t looking, his elegant muzzle folded in a human lap, Lucian found himself nodding as he admitted it. “ _A Freudian slip, but yes, it’s true. To be honest, I’ve eavesdropped on you a few times already – all accidents, I swear – if that makes any sense at all. I never intended for it to happen. It’s like I overheard your thoughts. I even eavesdropped on another Pokémon’s mind. Just a few minutes ago somewhere in the restaurant, a Probopass, possibly. Voices inside my head. It was weird, to say the least._ ”

Alabaster: _So, you can pervade the minds of others. A powerful ability indeed. With practice, you will learn how to control the Light and wield it at will. You may do so without most others knowing, although powerful Psychic Pokémon might be able to detect your encroachment. Alas, I am not one of them. Human, I would prefer if you did not bend your Light into mine._

Lucian: _Not a problem. I give you my word, I will not look intentionally and I’ll try my best not to do so inadvertently. Honestly, I find the concept far surpassing the edges of my morality. I wouldn’t want someone sitting in my mind either, like a parasite. It’s not ethical. Everyone deserves their privacy._

Alabaster: _I appreciate your honoring my request_.    

Lucian: _You’re welcome. So, I have a question for you._

Alabaster: _Please, do not refrain. Your Light is warm_.

Lucian: _Thank you! Okay so, you said there was one other like me. Like my father and me. Who are they?_

The Ninetails seemed reluctant to respond. At last, after at least a full minute, a tiny voice crept through Lucian’s ears and strummed a cord inside his skull.

Alabaster: _The second of your kind, a Soul Eater, is known as Apollyon_.

Lucian cocked his head. _Apollyon. Who the hell is he?_

Alabaster: _Apollyon_ _is not a ‘he_.’ _And ‘she’ is not like ‘you.’_

Lucian: _What do you mean by that_?

Alabaster: _Apollyon is not human_. _She is the Daughter of the Dark Moon._

Lucian: _The Dark Moon_?

Alabaster: _Yes. A being born of our sky mother_.

Lucian thought for a moment. _She’s a Pokémon, isn’t she? A Fairy type_?

Alabasters ears twitched slightly. “ _That is correct, human,_ he whispered.“ _Very perceptive_.”

Lucian: _You said she was born of the moon. I’ve read more than a handful of theories on Fairy Pokémon. The Fairy type is one of my favorites, actually. Fairy and Psychic. Anyhow, several distinguished scientists have speculated that Fairies are directly associated with the moon. Moonblast. Moonstones. And… if she’s a Fairy type related to Dark like you claim, a Soul Eater…that means she’s a dual **Fairy** and **Dark** type Pokémon…Okay, I have another question. How do you know so much about her, about this Apollyon_? _Don’t mean to boast, but I know my Pokémon and I’ve never heard of that one. Hell, I didn’t even know a Fairy-Dark type existed._  

Alabaster: _Humans, the vast majority of them, are unaware of Apollyon’s presence. You could say she is a Pokémon who has yet to be discovered, and for more reasons than one. She is a Legendary Pokémon and newborn at that. A kit, much like you_. _Young but since awakening she is ascending into something of unprecedented power._ _The reason I know of her is because I know her scent. Like your father, this Soul Eater and I are introduced._  

Lucian: _Hold the Holocaster! You’ve met her AND she’s a Legendary Pokémon…okay, Legendary or not, if she’s a Dark Dreamer like me and you know her, could you introduce me? Maybe she can help me figure this out._  

The Ninetails’ ear switched again before he continued whispering. “ _That is possible, human. We will have to wait and see. Perhaps we could track the first Dark Dreamer. Your father, Red_.”

Lucian frowned. “ _I don’t know where he is_ ,” the young man whispered. “ _I wouldn’t know where to look, where to even begin…his whereabouts are as much a mystery to me as my mother…_ ”

Alabaster: _I see. Forgive me human, I will do what I can to guide you, but regarding the Light and Dark I yet understand very little._

Lucian: _Don’t be so hard on yourself…honestly Ninetails you’re being extremely helpful…I apologize. I don’t think I phrased that very well. I would like to meet this Apollyon at some point, but you are really going out of your way here. I’m glad we’re having this conversation and…I’m glad you’re coming with me._

Alabaster: _Do not thank me yet, human. I have done very little, though if you are willing and receptive I do believe I can be of further assistance. Desiree is coming with us as well. She can teach you much about the Light._

Lucian: _So you’ve met her, not Apollyon but Desiree I mean? She’s really the Shiny Gardevoir Albina promised_?

Alabaster: _Yes, and in all my many years, I have never met a Psychic more gifted. She is a kit, much like you_ –

Lucian: _To be fair, compared to you just about everybody is_ … _sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just pointing you that you’re really old..._   

Wincing quietly and extensively, it took a few seconds for Lucian to realize the Ninetails was laughing again. This time, it was at his lame joke. Fucking awesome! It kind of sounded like a creaky door squeaking over and over again.  

Alabaster: _You are amusing, human. I whisper truth, nevertheless. This girl is talented and remarkably powerful for her age. If anyone can teach you more about your Psychic abilities and help you develop them yet further, it is she._

Joking one second, the next Lucian found himself feeling nervous. The more he thought about it, specifically about seeing Desiree again, the more nervous he became. “ _I must confess, Ninetails, I’m worried. This is all happening so fast. My mother kidnapped, Albina allowing me to assist with the investigation only to leave me hanging. Even now, out here in middle of the city I still feel so…alone_.”

Alabaster: _You have been alone for most of your life, but not anymore_. _There are others here. The rest is up to you._

Lucian exhaled deeply. “ _Yeah, I know. I’m not completely stranded. A Ninetails and a Shiny Gardevoir are coming with me…I’m just not sure what to think._ ”

Alabaster: _I understand, human. On my end, I want to thank you_.

Lucian frowned as he continued speaking through his mind. “ _Why’s that_?”  

Alabaster: _I am grateful for your shining your Light upon my own. It is very warm because you are very kind. That is why you must remain vigilant. Change is coming. A kind heart is very susceptible to change. Exposed, a kind heart can be ruined. Whatever happens, don’t lose that part of yourself. Hold onto it tight._

Lucian nodded, his lips straightening into something horizontal and more serene as he voiced a confident truth. “I have a bit of a potty-mouth, but no, I’ll never turn into something I’m not. There isn’t a mean bone in my body.

Alabaster: _A kind heart is one wrong turn away from ruin. Bones are brittle, but they mend quickly enough. The spirit is far more delicate, made of a glass that once shattered may never recover, shards scattered everywhere, some found and pick up, others forever lost. Remember your own Flame. Never stop tending to it. Build it up. Keep it warm but make it strong._

Lucian: _So be a nice guy but also be wary...Yeah, I’ve got that down. I’m still confused about the other part. My purpose in life is to help myself?_

Alabaster grunted before whispering, his chest heaving against Lucian’s thigh. “ _When I look upon you human, on the outside I see a cold cadaver. My heart sees more than my eyes do. Beyond a frozen prison you are very warm. Stop living inside yourself, inside this frozen throne which you sit upon all alone. Depart, and live inside the warm heart of someone else. Giving warmth to another, sharing it, that is what it means to truly be alive. Your purpose is to accept yourself, to love yourself, but the most potent ingredient to doing so is to show yourself, your heart to that of another. Two flames which dance together enrich each other, building the other up. By helping someone else, you help yourself._  

When Lucian nodded, it was out of respect. Later, he wanted to contemplate on this.    

Alabaster: _On my end, human, at least now I understand why you can never look upon me_.

The corners of Lucian’s mouth deepened. “ _But why?_ ” he said, shining his Light on the Ninetails.“ _See, that’s what I still don’t understand. That’s why I want to meet this Apollyon. Maybe she can tell me why my eyes burn when I look at yours._

Alabaster: _I can whisper that. When you look into my eyes, you see my Dark Flame. Keep looking and you will taste it, eat it, absorbing the scars that dwell inside my soul like they are your own. I am very old, human. Eight-hundred and ninety-three years my ember has endured. At one-thousand, that flame will fade – and for that I am glad.  I have seen a great many things walking, running, stumbling upon this Earth. Things no tomes will tell you. I have watched this world weep. I have seen it burn and then doused, only to be burned again. I have known enemies who extinguished the Flames of kits for pleasure. I have watched those professed to be my allies carry out treachery. I have lost so many of those who lived inside my heart, watched life leave their eyes. Look too long in mine, Dark Dreamer, and you will become lost, burning within the flames that rage inside me. Rain clouds congregate inside my Light, but an inferno brews down below, deep and undying within my Dark. This taint has spread like wildfire, engulfing my ember, and nothing can placate that conflagration now. Avoid my Dark, human. Do not touch my Flame. Beyond my eyes, there is nothing smoldering but pain._

Lucian listened, digesting every single cryptic word as his hands folded over his face. He was struggling to hold back tears.

Alabaster: _I now know why you have never dared meet a Pokémon. You are afraid, human, frozen in fear. Afraid of touching another’s flame and catching fire. Afraid of burning with them, alongside them, knowing and feeling their pain. How long human? How long will you be afraid?_  

Lucian gaped. He was right. He had been right about him from the very beginning. It was as if the Pokémon could bend Light, reading his mind and turning to the page revealing a most wretched truth. There was no point denying it any longer.  

Lucian: _You’re right…It’s true…I am afraid. How long…I don’t know Ninetails…I don’t know. I’m not brave enough…inside I feel mostly…anger…my personal issues are already overbearing as it is. Introducing my mind and heart, my soul to someone else, my problems and giving them my burdens while simultaneously trying to take on their own, trying to balance it all, it’s…daunting, like a risk I just haven’t been willing to take._

Alabaster: Y _ou are afraid of feeling alive. You link vulnerability with weakness when exposing your heart builds strength and character. You loathe yourself because you have no identity, no one knows who you are, not even you. What you’re capable of, how far you can run, stop snuffing your Flame. Let it burn warm and bright so someone else may find it. You call your ability to see Dark, to feel it an illness, a curse. A curse it is not. If anything, Dark Dreamer, it sets you apart from your human kin. It gives you not a higher purpose, but a more potent one. Evoke that purpose. Our collective purpose. Remind me, my mind is old, my Light grows dim. What is that purpose?_

“To tend flames,” Lucian said aloud, suddenly staring at his hands. They were soft, smooth, unblemished. Isolating himself in his home, usually his room, his hands were not hardened, not calloused, many years spent hating his father and himself, bottling up his pain while hiding from Pokémon in fear of knowing their own and dealing with a dual threat.

In reality, the only way he could truly help himself was to help Pokémon.   

Alabaster: _Who better to tend flames than someone who can see them, can feel them? Avoid my Flame, Dark Dreamer. But do not be so quick to disregard the Flames of other Pokémon. Tend to another’s Flame, and in return perhaps they will tend yours. Let their warmth thaw you from this frozen prison._

At that, the young man almost choked. When the tears rushed his eyes, there was no preventing their fall. “Look at me. It’s pathetic.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Lucian saw the Ninetails’ slender golden muzzle crane slowly upwards in his direction, crimson cinders settling on his lachrymose demeanor. “I’m fucking crying like a baby,” the Dark Dreamer muttered before slashing at a slushy nose with the brunt of his forearm.  

Alabaster: _You are a baby_. _Just a kit. Soon, my ember will extinguish. But yours has just begun to burn. Stop smothering it. Give it a chance. Let it breath. Let it grow. Let it flourish._  

Lucian loosened a laugh. It was weird, lamenting and laughing at the same time. “Ninetails, you’re like fifty or so times my senior,” he grumbled aloud. “What are you, eight-hundred and…?”

Alabaster: Ninety- _three_.

“Eight-hundred and ninety-three,” Lucian mouthed. At that moment, something clicked. He recalled what the ancient fox had mentioned about his lifespan.  

Lucian: _Ninetails_?

Alabaster: _Human_?

Lucian: _The force brewing within your nine tails grants you 100 extra years on top of an original 100. You said so yourself, that you can live up to 1000 years of age. So, I don’t mean to be the bearer of good news but, you’ve got another 107 years ahead of you_. _Kind of a long ass time. You’ll probably still be kicking once I’m gone…_   

Alabaster: _The days burn by slowly, human. But the years fly by fast. Time is short for all of us. In that flicker, all we can truly do are two things. Tend to Flames or snuff them. Never stop tending your own Flame. Your own must burn brightly. You cannot properly tend the Flames of others unless your own emits a warm glow. Alas, so many, too many tend to only one flame, their own, while neglecting those of others. These creatures abandon their purpose. They forget their roots. And in truth, those who tend only their Flame actually smother it. Their ember cannot breath. It cannot grow. A Flame cannot flourish, not by itself. Not alone. By helping someone else, you help yourself._

Lucian rediscovered his hands. Sleeping away the night as well as many of the hours of the day, longing for the past, wishing he could change it to his liking all the while dreaming of what could have and should have been with a Ralts he met years ago. Reading fiction and rereading his favorites, wishing that the tale to his own life was written down on pages he could turn and uncover so he wouldn’t have to be plagued with misgivings of the future. And then there was his love of nonfiction, of knowledge. He was a sponge who kept everything he had learned locked inside his mind, trapped in selfish solitude. Some days he produced and composed music, the violin, the piano, melodies born from his heart and fingers that no hears enjoyed save for his own.

He did all of these things simply to pass the time. It was as if he had been waiting for somebody to find him, hoping someone would come along and tend his Flame. For so long he had been stuck inside a place no one could ever hope to find him. Trapped ironically by his own accord, isolated and living in fear as he sat upon a frozen throne, not even living, not really.  

Alabaster: _Human. You have two good legs and arms. Hands and fingers, too. They were designed not only for you, but for others._

Lucian was still glaring at his hands.

Alabaster: _Speaking of hands and fingers…I have a dreadful itch. If you could rid me of the irritation using your human fingers, I would be grateful._

Lucian laughed uneasily. Instantly his hands become clammy. He was nervous as he said aloud, “Sure Ninetails, it’s the least I can do. Where specifically is this irritation?”

Alabaster: _Everywhere_. _Start on my back and work your way up_.  

Worries waned as an appeasing, almost childish bout of soft mirth escaped Lucian’s lungs. Before today he could never have dreamed of petting a Ninetails.  

Flaccid tails curled limply behind the elegant creature while a few flapped on the booth in delight as a human hand rummaged in a furry spine before trailing up, fingers skipping as they scaled over blunt slopes of elegant bone. As his fingers went to work past the neck, messaging a furry head with dulled nails, the Pokémon’s ears twitched incessantly. At Lucian’s sustained contact, the fox’s long muzzle hugged tightly against Lucian’s thigh. 

Alabaster: _It’s as I told you, two good hands. Use them_.

Lucian grinned. _Nice double entendre,_ he whispered, allowing his second hand to mesh with golden fur. That second hand burrowed in the Ninetails’ prominent crest, which was bushy and thick yet very soft like silk.

As his other hand continued rubbing around the Pokémon’s ears, violet eyes fell and explored the soft coat.

Entrenched on Alabaster’s back were two long, straight grooves which intersected in the middle, forming an X. Along both massive scars the flesh was completely exposed, closed gray wounds where golden-white fur could no longer grow.

Violet eyes tentatively traveled up where hands were still scrubbing around a crest and ears.

On the right the ear was tall and pointy. But the other ear, the closer one on the left just below Lucian’s chin was asymmetrical. The tip was missing on that left ear, a startling observation by how jarring and obvious it seemed now compared to the tall, triangular ear just a few inches away. Mutilated to a chiseled, toothy flap, the rest had been torn off by a skirmish that could have happened years, decades, or even centuries ago. As Lucian’s fingers undulated around it, what was left of the shredded ear quivered weakly, nerves which survived and remained sensitive to touch and loved every bit of it.         

In striving to avoid crimson cinders, Lucian had never raked past the Ninetails’ majestic beauty. At a first glance, a second or maybe a dozen, Alabaster was an elegant and ethereal creature. He still was, though examining him up close the scars and maims were a somber sight.

With a sinking heart and glossy eyes, Lucian heard himself ask an objective question. “Why are you really coming with me, Ninetails?” Downtrodden fingers still pressed and rubbed as the Ninetails granted Lucian an answer.

Alabaster: _I’ve already told you the short. By helping someone like you, I am helping myself. Warmth is shared. However, I will impart the long version, if you are willing to listen._

Lucian: _Of course I am._

Alabaster: _Don’t get too comfortable_. _You might fall asleep._  

“ _Never,”_ Lucian whispered positively.“ _When speaking with you I give my full, undivided attention. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere._

The Ninetails turned his head to the side, a long muzzle completely facing away as if he was bashful about doing whatever he was about to do.

Alabaster: _Very well. I will tell you a story_.

Nine golden tendrils curled with slight tremors as a thin yet grating voice simmered in Lucian’s mind.

Alabaster: _Long have you humans fascinated me. Tales passed onto me by warm birthmother, stories few know, legends only a handful have ever heard say human beings were not born of this Earth. The God Arceus created a great many beings, but not all of them. Porygon is a creature made by your magic, science, as is Genesect. The mighty Mewtwo is also synthetic, born from strange human magic. Ninetails, my kind, are not one of your creations. We are of divine design, born from the mind and soul of Arceus. We are one of Her primordial children, our Flames bequeathed by Her own, our quadruped bodies constructed and clothed in Her image. When life first began, the epoch of the living, the primeval children such as Ninetails were the embodiment of Her Light and Dark._

_“Now, look at your arms and your hands. Your fingers and your thumbs. Humans are divergent. Fundamentally different. Arceus did not create you. Evolution can account for change. The products of Evolution are seen in many Pokémon. Certain species are directly related to you humans, there is no repudiating the biological similarities. The Human-Like and even the Amorphous Egg Groups exhibit various bipedal Pokémon, creatures with two legs, as well as arms, hands, fingers, even thumbs much like your own. The origins of these species are not quite as palpable as the semblance. Evolution can only account for a fragment of the truth. While certain Pokémon are undeniably related to humans, Gardevoir for example, who came first, humans or humanoid Pokémon? I will whisper that answer. You did. Human beings._

_“Your kind is not even from this Earth. Your ancestors came from somewhere else long ago, from another blue and green globe far away. My warm birthmother told me this tale, one that has been passed down my family for generations. She whispered that human beings flew through the heavens on giant metal shapes, black rectangles, black triangles, and black discs, sailing through the cosmos like ships do on cold Water. Your ancestors were searching for something, a new place to call Home, for your old planet had been ruined, incinerated, washed away in a sea of fire and ash, a hell too torrid and toxic for anyone or anything. My birthmother said these humans left behind a graveyard of death and decay. She whispered that conflict did this, that war made your Home, which was once a blue and green Eden a black and gray wasteland._

_“Eventually your ancestors, human survivors, cosmic colonists my birthmother called them, discovered the Everlasting Ember, and soon after that you descended from the heavens, sailing through the air on your giant black ships, soaring amongst the clouds before gracing the ground upon this Earth. I have seen a great many things, human, but this story yet confuses me. I find it fascinating all the same. Perhaps your kind was not born of this Earth, but for as long as my ember has endured, we have both called it Home._

_“Eight-hundred and ninety-three years I have walked here and run there, listening and watching. I remember the very first Pokémon League competitions. I remember Mewtwo, as I was there on Cinnabar Island when he escaped from his prison. I remember the Great War and countless wars before it, human tyrants sending their kin swathed in military garb to sacrifice life for land, resources, and power, soldiers wielding Pokémon as well as your strange science, weapons born from human magic, your hands, fingers, and thumbs knotted around tools designed to kill, as if your biology, your hands, fingers, and thumbs, as if they too were designed to kill._

_“Spinning the wheel in my mind, I even remember a time when you humans did not place us in your cages. Many years ago, but not that many, we were not yet so humbled. Pokéballs did not exist, and without them your kind did not brand us, Pocket Monsters. Not yet. Our relationship was not so one-dimensional. For a chosen few of us nonhumans, my kind included, Ninetails was feared, revered, even worshipped like minor deities by a foolish few. Sacrifices were made in our honor while others warned against grave sacrilege. Some avoided us all together, fearing our wrath. However, strangest of all were the humans who approached us. Head held high, one of you humans offered to me a proposal, one where I could live and prosper by her side. Such an arrangement, you see, was more than simply symbiotic. Food, shelter, company, warmth all shared. These were the happiest days of my life, days that burned by slowly but are since expired, forever gone, distant memories, images in my mind and ashes in my soul, nothing more._

_“You see, human, I remember a time when some of you humans looked upon me as your equal. Eight-hundred and thirty-nine years ago, I met a human, the first properly introduced to me. Her name was Seraphine, and her heart was very warm, much like your own. Even now, thinking about her, remembering the warmth we shared, such memories give me chills... Seraphine called me, brother, and I learned to call her, sister. We hunted together, feasted around the same bonfire, and at night I watched over her human children as their eternal Guardian._

_“Your human lives are so very short. The wick in your candles burn down much faster than my own. After my Seraphine’s Flame extinguished, soon did those of her children and then her children’s children. Some of you humans can do much good in this world. Some of you can make a lasting difference in a short amount of time, be it warm or cold. When my human kin passed, my heart lodged, but my body moved on, walking and running by the sides of others of your kind. Human beings. Seven of them learned to call me, brother, including my Seraphine. Today now more than ever I miss several of them dearly._

_“For too long, you humans have called me, Pokémon, and I have called you, Master. Your kind can be selfish and ambitious. Cold and ruthless. Fickle and unfaithful. But in the time my ember has endured, my most treasured scars have been with humans. My faith in humanity has been dowsed, and that is a fire which cannot be rekindled. Faith in individuals, warm humans like you yet remain. I help you not out of a sense of duty or for personal satisfaction. I tend your Flame because you deserve it and I lend you my ember because I believe in your potential. My hope for you human by the name of Lucian is that to flourish, all you need is a little push._ ”

“Alabaster...” Lucian’s voice was low, almost inaudible, but when he said it the Ninetails’ asymmetrical ears twitched. The fox turned his muzzled head to face the young man, twisting very slowly and carefully, giving Lucian ample time to prepare and look away.

Lucian held his gaze, and when he did crimson met violet. This time, it was the Ninetails’ eyes which fled.  

“ _Do not look into my eyes, Lucian_ ,”Alabaster warned, fastening them shut.

Lucian’s hands shot out and clasped behind Alabaster’s muzzle, long fingers cusped gently below a pointed ear and a mangled one.  

“I’m still afraid,” Lucian said with certainty. “But I don’t care about that right now. I want to understand you, Alabaster. I want to tend your Flame.”

Tentatively, two rubies revealed themselves before bolting shut once more.

“ _Not my eyes_ ,” the tiny voice quaked. _Do not look into my Flame_. 

Courage swam through Lucian’s veins as he pressed his face against the Pokémon’s nose, the latter warm and wet. As their face’s collided, the Ninetails’ crimson cinders blazed one more time.

Lucian held his gaze, staring into them deeply, looking inside two bright crimson windows mere inches from his own.

 _Don’t, Lucian! Stop!_  

Too late.

Within those rubies Lucian saw a bright, inviting light, like looking at a hearth through a window. Beyond that window, within that light he knew what waited to greet him.

The Dark.

The Black Light grew tenfold before erupting into a gushing crimson flame which permeated through the fine glass, encircling the Dark Dreamer before swallowing him whole. 

For an indistinguishable time after, there was nothing but blackness, nothing at all until he glanced down.

First of all, he was naked. Second, below his bared feet the ground was gray and desolate, sandy ashes which prickled against his flesh.

“Fuck!” he winced, stumbling around on the sandy surfacing but failing to find solace. Everywhere he stepped the sand stung. It wasn’t unbearable but proved discomforting all the same.

Trying to ignore that discomfort, Lucian glanced around. The Ninetails was nowhere to be found. The booth, the table, the whole restaurant was gone. Surrounding him, sandy dunes and hills stretched for miles on end. There was nothing. No people. No Pokémon. No fine dining. All around an endless gray desert. Or maybe it was some kind of giant litterbox.

Lucian swiped at his forehead with a bared forearm. Both were drenched. The air was thick and humid. Sweat oozed from his naked body as if he were a colander. And yet, there was no sun in the sky.

Up above, only dark.

It was nighttime, no sky father and he could not locate a sky mother. A gray wasteland below and a black wasteland above.

Wait. Tilting his chin up, eyes squinting, he spotted something, many things, familiar things. Way up there in the black sky was an endless band of dots. Tiny, flickering dots, like stars in the night sky.

Crimson stars. Most of them, at least. There were a few deviations, as some were blue, green, gray, yellow, even coffee colored which almost blended in with the dark atmospheric palate completely.

Studying the vast black sky, he realized that most of the stars twinkled faintly, dimly crimson.

Bells began ringing inside his head. This had happened once before. In Alabaster’s Battle with Mega Banette, Albina ordered the powerful fiery fur-ball to use Dark Pulse and evoke his _peerless_ _pain_. When that happened, Lucian found himself transported to this same exact place. A realm filled with ubiquitous dark save for tiny stars glistening up above.

Scrutinizing that sky yet further, he grasped another detail. A pattern. Most of them came in pairs, two twinkling, flickering stars dancing side-by-side, and there were hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands.

Thousands of individual sets.

As his vision remained on the night sky, an eerie tingle swam up his spine. Lucian couldn’t help but feel like those stars were looking back down at him.

In the darkness, something faint notched his eardrums. They sounded like voices, soft, indiscriminate mumblings, but glancing all around there was no one there.     

Whispers in the dark.

Suddenly, a trill breeze swished through the land, almost knocking the baffled and in the buff young man off his feet. Maintaining his balance, the breeze swept through again, spinning him around and shoving him a few paces forward. It seemed intent on driving him in a distinct direction, guiding him along a preordained path. In gratitude of its cool caress, the young man surrendered to the gale, unsure of where it was leading him.  

Before him, just gray sandy dunes and a glittery night sky.

Eventually he came to a raised slope, not an intimidating mountain just a sandy hill. On the other side maybe there would be something less sandy and bland, like a populated city or a body of water.

A guest of winds shoved him forward. “Alright, I’m going,” Lucian grumbled. “Jeez.”

Climbing the slope with a strange doggedness, he hoped for something, anything besides endless desert.

After surmounting the peak he got his wish.

Several hundred meters away there was sweeping column of flame, a red whirlwind roaring like a freight train and moving fast like one too, ramming directly towards that very spot he was standing.

It was fiery fucking tornado.

Panicked, he reeled around, knowing full well it was impossible to outrun a tornado but instinct demanding he try anyways. Sliding down the incline butt-first while groaning “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” when he plopped to the bottom he scrambled up and sprinted as fast as he could all while keeping his neck craned and eyes pointed behind, watching the sand spray behind his kicking feet.

In the distance, the crimson column spiraled into the black night sky, nicking the stars above. The fiery twister effortlessly scaled the sandy mound and swiveled down the slant, rumbling like a train.

**“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”**

Thirty seconds ago, he had tumbled down the same incline ass-first. Ungluing his vision from death approaching from behind, he focused on what was in front of him.

He froze. “Aw, come on!”   

Dancing around just a football field away was a second tornado, ravenous winds shooting a mile high in the black sky. Sheathed in crimson flame, it swept across the desolate land on a collision course right for him. Looking back behind, the first fiery behemoth was fast-approaching, undeterred by the presence of its twin.

There was a twister at back, another one in front. Conspiring against the lone wander in the gray desert, double-teaming him, there was no way to escape. He didn’t even scream. Instead, he shouted at them. “You terrifyingly beautiful bastards are in cahoots! That’s not fair!”

He was trapped and fucked beyond belief. They were going to converge and bathe his body in turbulent fire. Even if he tried to hightail out of there left or right or dig underground like a desperate Diglett, death was inevitable. Within seconds one of them was going to find him and gobble him up. Submitting to notion that he was about to enter a whirlwind of fiery pain, he kicked some sand. In that moment, kicking sand felt like beating the shit out of a fluffy pillow. It felt good.      

“ _Who are you_?”

The flaming tornadoes swept past, both narrowly avoiding an impact with each other as well as an intrepid young man, who kept looking down at his naked body surprised to see unburnt flesh.

“ _Hello! Excuse me, who are you_?”

Naked but not afraid, just confused, he pirouetted like a ballerina. Absolutely no one was there, just sand and two fiery tornadoes roaring and blazing around and deciding not to rip him to shreds.  

“I’m Lucian,” the young man shouted, the resolution in his voice surprising. “Uh…hi. Who are you?” 

“ _Lucian? Oh, I know you! Hi Lucian!_ ”

“You do…uh, great. Your identity, please?”

 _“I’m nobody_.”

 “Nobody?” Lucian looked around. Nobody was there indeed, but she had to somebody. Her voice was small and high-pitched, like a kid. She sounded like a little girl.

“ _Yeah, nobody_ ,” he heard her say.“ _My name’s Kindle though_.”

“Kindle? Why can’t I see you, Kindle? Where are you?”

“ _Look up_.”

Up above, just a black sky sprinkled with glitter.

_A little to the left._

His vision shifted west.

_Keep going!_

Just a black background with an occasional pair of crimson flickers.

“ _Too far, go back, go right and…stop! There! That’s me_! _Hello_!”

Lucian’s vision had settled on a pair of twinkling crimson stars.

“ _Those are my eyes_ ,” the tiny voice said.

“Eyes!” Lucian breathed. “You’re alive?”

“ _Of course not. I told you, I’m nobody_.”

A trill breeze whisked through, spinning Lucian right-round, and what he saw next made him fall flat on his ass, his butt cheeks denting sizzling sands.

Swarming along the desert were dozens of tornadoes, giant beams of scorching flame charring the land.

But there was something else out there too. 

Far in the distance that something stood even higher and prouder than the tornadoes, a Tree of titanic proportions, its constitution so vast its trunk was wider than every single tornado combined. Wooden arms stretched towards the crimson stars in the sky, gangly fingers reaching higher than any building he had ever seen, dwarfing even the Silph Co.’s Headquarters. In terms of sheer size, it put anything manmade to shame.

Awe and wonder filled the Dark Dreamer’s senses, as did a searing pain. He tried not to dwell on the latter. Instead, he focused on the Tree’s great height and breadth. Never had he seen something so imposing and otherworldly and magnificent.

Picking his sandy blanketed ass up off the ground, he began to stumble towards it. A trill breeze swept through, prodding him along and guiding him exactly where he wanted to go. Lucian appreciated the assistance.    

 _This is the Ninetails’ soul,_ he told himself. _This, all of it is his Dark Flame_. _And the fiery fucking twisters are part of the tempest he warned me about, the interminable conflagration_. _So what’s up with the glitter in the sky? And who is Kindle?_       

Sand was hot against his naked feet, his body wet and sticky with sweat, the area behind his eyes burned, but he ignored it, all of it, determined to march on until he reach his destination, that, or his knees splintered, whichever came first. His stiff legs were like wooden planks. Feet that felt like concrete were too heavy to lift, forcing him to skid along the sand as if the endless litterbox was an ice skating rink.

The young man skated in the stinging sand for what felt like a lifetime. The roaring tornadoes left him alone, almost as if they were deliberately avoiding him.

**“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”**

He flipped one of them off, but eventually he forgot about them completely, as if they were background decoration and sound and no longer threats.

Up ahead, the Tree was so enormous it gave the relentless impression of being right there, just beyond his reach. Golden-white bark glistened just a few feet ahead, yet it never seemed like he was making any progress at all, like it was all a mirage.

For a moment, he was curious if they were still watching him, the tiny crimson eyes in the sky.

Yup, they were there still up there, twinkling evermore. Murmuring, too. Lucian realized they were the source of the faint voices. Were they talking amongst themselves? Or trying to talk to him?

At last, Lucian’s grit yielded progress. As he drew closer, however, what he saw made him grimace, as well as remember the sticky sweat and searing pain.

Up close, the trunk of the Tree was black, battered, and charred, the consequences of interminable clashes and confrontations with tornadoes clad in flame. A shard of its former self, the Tree’s sullen branches were barren, devoid of any semblance of greenery. An array of flames simmered around its base, scorching the ashen land and blazing without end as if this accursed plot of the desert had been drenched in kerosene, a poison the thirsty wooden giant drink in lieu of water.

Smoke filled Lucian’s lungs as he entered the wildfire, taking care to tread carefully around walls and idle pillars of crimson flame. The charred ground there was worse here than ever, the sand gone and replaced by simmering black ashes which tore away the flesh on his feet, grafting them with bubbly blisters which were almost immediately chafed red and raw and burned to the bone.

As he hobbled underneath the grand Tree, its wilting wooden arms offered no shade, no shelter from the hot sun overhead.

What sun?

How could he forget? Up above the canvas was a pitch black sprinkled with crimson stars. Not stars, eyes, mostly crimson eyes watching evermore.

Swiping at the globs of sweat seeping down his face and torso was a constant until Lucian had no more fluids in his body left to secrete. Parched crusty lips yearned for what was in absolutely no supply. His mouth was so dry no sound could escape his lungs. He was unable to scream or shout, he couldn’t even cry. His body, muscles and bones were weak and on the edge of crumbling and melting away. If not for that strange impetus, a trill breeze guiding him forward, he swore he would have crumpled and perished.

“ _You’re almost there_ ,” one pair of stars said up above. Kindle, her name was Kindle. “ _Just a bit further, outlander_ ,” Kindle said.    

Unearthed roots twisted around his feet now, like fossilized Ekans destined to burn and decay forever in flame. As Lucian stepped over a fiery patch, he failed to avoid tripping over one of the blackened tendrils.

His mind reacted immediately, bracing his body for impact. However, the Tree’s roots were even weaker than he. The root snapped instead, shattering into dust. Upright and unscathed, Lucian halted for just a moment, wishing more than anything that he could cry so his tears might remind those roots of hope, even if such hope proved ephemeral and mocking.

The trill breeze convinced him to go on.    

When he arrived at the Tree’s base, he touched the rough decaying bark with wilted knuckles, his fingers too weak to prod.  

Somehow, he managed a smile. Why he was smiling he did not know. 

Maybe it was because against all odds, he had reached this destination. No, he didn’t smile because he felt accomplished. Not knowing why but smiling all the same, his knees gave way as he thrust his body against the trunk, slumping back while his mind yet wandered.

“ _Welcome outlander_!”

Too feeble to crane his neck, his pupils made the climb by themselves. Through wooden arms and fingers he spotted twinkling stars, the vast majority of them blazing crimson. Kindle’s stars were there with all the rest, staring down at him. Her eyes were crimson, too. They reminded Lucian of tiny rubies.

“ _Hello_?”  

Parched lips opened to speak, but nothing tumbled out. He couldn’t reciprocate.   

“ _Why aren’t you speaking? Oh, I know! Can you whisper like me?_ ”

Lucian blinked lamely. “ _You can shine your Light_?”

“ _Of course_ ,” Kindle squeaked. “ _That’s what I’ve been doing_.” 

Lucian: _I thought you said you were nobody. You’re a Pokémon, aren’t you_?

Kindle: _Yeah_! _I was a Vulpix._

Lucian: _A Vulpix? What the hell…I’m sorry Kindle I was under the impression that this was Alabaster’s Dark Flame._

Kindle: _This is. Alabaster was my dad_. 

Lucian: _Alabaster is your dad_?

Kindle: _No. That’s not what I said. Alabaster was my dad. He named me Kindle._

Lucian: _Okay, so what in the world are you doing trapped in here, Kindle?_

Kindle: _I’m not trapped. This is my home. You’re the one who doesn’t belong. There’s not supposed to be two of you._

Lucian: _Two of me…what are you talking about_?

Kindle: _I see double. You’re way down there. An outlander. But you’re also up here with me. See, look_!

Through reflex alone, Lucian’s eyes widened. Up in the dark sky next to two twinkling crimson stars were a pair of violets.  

Kindle: _The other you kind of reminds me of me. He doesn’t have much to say. You way down there are much more fun. Are you here to help us by any chance?_

Lucian: _Help who_?

Kindle: _Us_! _Well, my dad I guess_. _His Flame wasn’t always like this. Not that I know, that’s just what some of the others whisper sometimes. It’s only gotten worse since I got here. Which isn’t that long. Feels like it, though!_

Lucian: _Kindle, really, who are you_?

Kindle: _I already told you. I’m nobody and my name is Kindle_.   

Lucian: _That doesn’t make any sense. You have to be somebody, you have a name. Can I help you? How can I get you down from up there_?

Kindle: _Too late for me. I’m not like you, there’s only one of me. Sorry if I’m not much help. I am nobody after all. But yeah, you can help us actually. I’m sure of it! You’re so warm. You should give some of that warmth to my dad. He really needs it. Deserves it too. I was really scared, all of us were, but dad was really nice to us to the very end. He told us not to cry. Then one at a time, he gave us a name. Each and every one, he didn’t have to but he wanted to. I was last so it took a while to come to me. But then it was my turn, he got to me just in time! He told me that he loved me. And he meant it, too! He gave each of us a name. He gave me a name, too! He named me, Kindle. Then the flood came. The Water was cold, super cold and it was everywhere, I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. I tried to scream but I couldn’t do that either. It was so cold. Then I died._

None of her ranting whispers made any sense. If she was dead how could she be speaking to him?

Lucian: _Kindle, please just tell me this. How the hell are my eyes up there_?

Kindle: _Well, I guess it’s because you live up here now. With all of us. Me too! You’re part of dad’s Flame!_

Now Lucian was beginning to understand. The stars up above. Flickering pairs, most of them came in pairs. They were eyes. Eyes and lives lodged in the Ninetails’ memory. Etched like scars deep in the Dark that was his soul.

Those were the eyes of every single creature the Pokémon had ever met, Lucian included, and that was why he was there amongst them. His own pair was just one of many thousands. As for Kindle, apparently she was deceased, nothing but a painful memory smoldering inside the Ninetails’ Dark Flame. He had to figure out who she was.

Kindle: _Uh-oh._

Lucian: _What_?

Kindle: _I think your time is up. Bye outlander, it was nice meeting you_! _Hope you help us._  

Lucian: _No, Kindle, wait!_

A dim rumbling replaced Kindle’s whispers, like the hum of a freight train. Many freight trains. That’s when Lucian saw them. Contemptuous tornadoes clad in crimson flame pranced around the Tree. They weren’t bluffing, they were getting ready to charge. Giant pillars of fire were going to plow towards the Tree, towards him too, for he was slouched against its rigid barky base.

Lucian ignored their perilous portent. He couldn’t run. He could hardly move. Instead, he focused on the flock of whispers in his ear.

“ _By helping someone else, you help yourself._ ”

It wasn’t just Kindle. Thousands of thin whispers thrummed in his mind. This time, they were harmonious and distinct, all delivering the same message.

“ _By helping someone else, you help yourself._ ”

Swirling columns of crimson pain buffeted Alabaster’s soul. They took turns, thrashing one at a time. When their work was finished, they departed in unison.

The blackened Tree stood tall, surviving the scorching scourge, a veteran reinforced by the vigor of retribution.      

At the base of its wooden hull there was a small mound of violet ashes.

“ _By helping someone else, you help yourself_ … _unless_ …”

A trill breeze swept through the land, scooping up Lucian’s remains and casting them away.

* * *

 

“ _Don’t Lucian_!” a fierce voice echoed inside a skull shrouded by purple. Inches away from Lucian’s vision were a pair of crimson cinders.

“ _Stop_!”

Maintaining eye contact, Lucian’s fingers stroked through the crest adorning Alabaster’s head, that blaze of fur soft and silky.

Abruptly, the Ninetails’ muzzle turned. “ _Avoid my eyes, Dark Dreamer_ ,” the Pokémon whispered telepathically as eyelids shut over crimson windows like shades. “ _Inside my Flame all that smolders is pain_.”

Reassuring fingers massaged behind two ears, one triangular the other gnarled. “ _Who is Kindle_?”

Slowly, the muzzle pointed at Lucian’s face as teetering crimson cinders unfastened.  

Alabaster: _You touched my Flame_. _You really did…fool_

Pain boiled behind Lucian’s eyes, but this time he did not look away. Never again. The pain he felt was not his own. It belonged to the Pokémon. _It’s probably a thousand times worse for him than it is me_ , the Dark Dreamer realized. _Whatever that feels like, he deals with it every hour of every day._  

Never before had Lucian stared so blatantly and unfalteringly at the Ninetails’ face, each crimson cinder weary like a setting sun. One did not need to see the veracity behind such grim eyes to know they belonged to someone with great grief. “ _Kindle is a piece of my past_ ,” Alabaster whispered as Lucian continued staring.“ _A piece of my pain. My apologies, human. Everyone has pain. You need not trouble yourself with mine_.”

Combing a soft crest a few times, Lucian said aloud, “I want to thank you, Alabaster.”

The Ninetails slanted his muzzled head.

Alabaster: _Are you no longer afraid_?

Lucian grinned. “ _I’m terrified_ … _But you know what_?”

Alabaster: _What_?

Lucian: _For so long, I’ve felt weak and powerless. I felt like the world was against me and there wasn’t anything I could do to change it. I didn’t have a father. I didn’t have Desiree…or any Pokémon. I guess I hated myself for that._

He grinned at the Ninetails, a genuine one. “ _Alabaster, you told me change was coming. If there’s one thing I can control, it’s changing me. I’m not weak. I’m not powerless. I can change if I want to, and I do. Don’t worry, I’m not going to lose myself. I’m going to better myself. I’m going to be the best I can be._ ”  

Tiny voices still rang inside his head, the haunting whispers inside the Ninetails’ Dark Flame.    

 _“By helping someone else, you help yourself_.”

Like drops of rain, those desperate pleas fell in a crescendo upon the Dark Dreamer’s mind and soul. He knew what he had to do. His Light and Dark were made up. _I can’t relinquish my anger and my fears. It’s not that easy. I can’t just snap my fingers and make them go away. But I can fight them. We can fight them, together. Alabaster and...Desiree. They’re going to help me find my mother and I’ll do whatever I can to return the favor. I won’t let them down. I can’t. If I have to burn alongside them, I’ll fucking do it. I’m going to tend my flame, and the best way to do that is to tend someone else’s. Alabaster, I’m going to help you. As for you Desiree, whatever you need, I’ll try my best to give it to you. I’ll tend your flame too. I’ll do it, even if it kills me._

At that moment, he felt as if the enormous weight that had landed upon his shoulders earlier flew away. There was nothing external, the Braviary, the Mandibuzz, those were his doubts. The only thing weighing him down was his anger and depression. Not anymore. Today, he was going to embrace purpose.   

Standing upright, he felt light on his feet. He grinned. _Right on time_ , he thought. Across the restaurant a beautiful young woman wearing a white gown was slinking towards the table. A black bag hung at her hip, the strap around her shoulder. Sparse moments were spent wondering if she and Einstein really did just have sex.

Big orange eyes replaced those thoughts. What if Desiree was here!!!???

“Why hello there, Lucian,” Albina crooned through a brazen grin. She withdrew an arched chair, sat down, and scooted closer to the table. He remained standing.

Dark sunglasses tilted up at him. A swirl of raven hair draped over one of her cheeks. Combing back that black wisp behind her ear, she said with passive understanding, “You look different.”

 _Is it that obvious_ , he wondered?  

One of Lucian’s hands dipped down where it landed on a reverse tassel of soft, silky hair.  Stroking Ninetails behind the ears, the Dark Dreamer said, his voice steady, “I’ve decided to become a Pokémon Trainer.”

Pink lips creased into a smirk. “Oh, is that right?”

Lucian thought for a moment. “Sort of. I’m not going to abide by all the customs. I’m not going to own Pokémon. But…I think I’m physically and mentally ready to befriend one or two of them. I have to. I need their help and who knows, maybe they could use mine.”

Albina’s smirk widened. “Alabaster is a wise old man. I guess you two hit it off, huh?”

The young man shrugged. “This fur-ball and I exchanged a few words. Or volumes of them. Once he starts talking it’s hard to shut him up.”

“ _I’m right here you know?_ ” Alabaster whispered as the Dark Dreamer stroked behind the Pokémon’s good ear. With his other hand wrapped around the nape of his own neck, Lucian let loose a few hearty laughs. After a few moments, Albina joined in. The Ninetails must have shined his Light on her, too. She must have heard him.

Lucian looked around. “Where’s Einstein?” he asked. A behemoth in a monochromatic black suit with a pink tie was nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, right,” Albina said, her lips dipping. “We received a rather urgent message from the IP headquarters. Einstein took the call. He had to leave.” Upon noticing the worry on Lucian’s face, she assuaged it with flash of teeth which matched her gown. “Completely unrelated to our case,” she explained. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.”

He nodded with relief. Then, his face broke into a grin. “So,” he said, “Did you tell Desiree about me? Is she here!?”

“Not yet,” Albina shrugged. “For some reason I can’t reach her.”

Lucian frowned. “Really? I hope she’s okay...”

“She’s fine. Don’t you worry about her just yet, girl can take care of herself. That being said, remember what I told you. When she does get here, take good care of her. She’s a nice girl.”

“I’m a nice guy,” Lucian pointed out.

“You know what?” Albina said with pleasant emotion, “You are a nice guy. I’m glad you decided to become a Pokémon Trainer, Lucian. My sister deserves a second chance with a human.”

“I agree,” he said as he silently prayed to someone, any deity who might be listening upstairs that he wouldn’t let that Gardevoir down. “So,” he said, “Desiree’s not here. What’s the plan?”

“Well, it’s getting late,” Albina said, her face contorting into palpable discontent. “I expected my dear sister to be with us right now. Hopefully she is on the Magnet Train as we speak. If not, if she doesn’t arrive tonight, she will be here first thing tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it.”

“So where do we crash for the night?”

“We can’t go back to your house.” She shook her head. “No, no, no. You’re practically a fugitive.”

 _Fugitive_? For some reason, he liked her calling him that. “My house is a no-go. Team Rocket is hunting me, I presume?”

“Precisely,” Albina said. “Be on your guard, now and always. Those grunts were after a gentleman with purple hair. You are a gentleman purple hair. Team Rocket is looking for you. Except confrontations with them in the future and never, ever trust a word they say. Trust me. Trust Ally. And trust my sister. That’s it, got it?”

“Got it,” Lucian answered, practically growling. Tightening his fist, “The hunted is going to become the hunted. First on my agenda is finding Koga.”

“Yes, Koga!” she cried agreeably. “That slippery bastard. We’ll find him. For now, let’s focus on getting some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

First the promiscuous waitress highlighted it and now Albina. To be fair, he had had a long day. He could feel the bags swelling under his yes. “I am tired,” he admitted. Looking down and meeting crimson cinders despite the sharp pain, he said, “What about you Alabaster? Tired yet?”

“ _I don’t sleep_ ,” the Ninetails whispered telepathically.

Lucian: _Never_?

Alabaster: _Never ever_. _The days burn by twice as slow for me as they do for you_. _And you thought you were cursed. Ha!_  

Lucian muffled a few laughs. The Ninetails was a funny guy. And holy shit, not needing sleep… that was badass. Such a premise reminded him of a book he read titled: Beggars in Spain.     

“What’s so funny?” Albina asked, tilting her head.

“Alabaster is…didn’t you hear him?” Maybe the Pokémon _whispered_ that exclusively to him.

Albina smirked. “Oh right, yeah,” she said before giggling lightly. “Well, if you are sleepy Lucian, and it looks like you are, I suggest we get a room. Sleep will do you a lot of good. Everyone needs sleep.”

“Except Alabaster,” Lucian quickly pointed out. Apparently she hadn’t heard him.

Albina smirked. “True, very true,” she said. “But as for you yah silly Zangoose, I think you’ve earned some rest. Does a cozy bed sound like a good idea?”

“Sounds perfect,” Lucian said. “I’ll have you know I need my beauty sleep. Nine hours at the least.”

“ _Purrrrrrrrrrfect_.”

It was the slimy spider again. Lucian ignored it. They were about to leave.

Albina glanced around. “Where’s our waitress?”  

“I’ll find her,” Lucian said, taking the initiative. The waitress promised she would check on him, but never delivered on that promise. It probably had something to do with his refusing oral sex from her in the stall of a bathroom. Or more like definitely. A confrontation was bound to be awkward, but he wanted to get the hell out of there and get some shuteye. If Desiree wasn’t coming tonight, today needed to end. Tomorrow was something to look forward to. “Come on Alabaster,” he said, patting the Pokémon on the furry back a few times, “let’s go find that crazy waitress.”  

The two of them did just that. It took all of about eleven seconds, but in that short amount of time he thought the two of them made a great team. The waitress was very rude. Their exchange was also very awkward. Terribly awkward, but not so much for him, mostly her. Lucian was far too psyched about meeting Desiree to give a shit.

As usual, Albina paid for his meal. Considering his family was very well off, his mother Sabrina a very successful and affluent Gym Leader, it irked Lucian that he couldn’t recompense. In due time, he would pay her back. He was going to pay them all back. For their help, for everything they were doing for him and were going to do, he would return the favor. Albina was a member of the International Police who was solving a very complex case. As of that morning, that case intertwined with the only person Lucian knew and loved. Over the course of the very same day, two free Pokémon were going out of their way to help him find his mother, an 893-year-old badass Ninetails called Alabaster and a 21-year-old talented Gardevoir by the name of Desiree.

Change was coming. Lucian braced himself. Expect the unexpected. He hadn’t a clue what lied ahead. He was still afraid, but fuck fear he had friends now. Whatever happened, he was confident he could adapt and overcome.

Like his Psychic mother and Dark Dreamer father before him, Lucian finally decided to become a Pokémon Trainer. If he was going to face fear, at least he didn’t have to do it alone. Crimson cinders, big orange eyes, and violets were going to work together.   

“ _Ssssuch a pretty nose_ ,” Lucian heard inside his head as he and Alabaster followed Albina towards the door.

 _Later Probopass_ , Lucian thought as he glanced back. The Probopass with the oversized red nose was no longer sitting at the table. A new group of guests were dining there in its stead.  

 _Weird_ , he thought before lunging towards the door.

Holding it open, the woman in white smirked at him in passing.

“ _Thank you, Lucian_ ,” Alabaster whispered as he trotted behind her.

Outside, the air was cool and fresh, the night sky as black as the leather bag hanging at Albina’s hip.

**End of Act I**

 

* * *

Take a look below, I've provided a detailed analysis of my major characters. Some of what you find should be very help. Maybe even a bit shocking. 

**_ Pokémon Dark Cast (Bio’s) _ **

 

**Lucian:**

Aliases: Sabrina’s Son

Age: 19

Affiliations: Sabrina (mother), Desiree (girlfriend), Alabaster (friend), Albina (IP agent), Red (estranged father)

Species: Psychic Human/Dark Dreamer    

Occupation: Pokémon Trainer, Investigator, Guy falling in love with a Shiny Gardevoir and trying not to let her down  

Abilities: Psychic telepathy/telekinesis, Can see the Light, Can see the Dark, Seducing women, Swordsmanship (eventually)  

Love Interest: Desiree

Weapon: Psychokinesis, Dark Attacks, Hand-to-hand combat, Katana

Goal: To rescue his mother, to respect and care for his Pokémon, to protect Desiree

Past: Depressed (Loafer/Loner), traumatized by witnessing the inhuman treatment of a Ralts, No father-figure     

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Lucian tries to stay in tune with his sense of moral principles. He is a bookworm and Pokémon expert who ironically has never befriended a Pokémon. Along with a mysterious Pokémon allergy, losing his chance at raising a Ralts contributed to his being friendless, lonely, and angry. Erudite, wary, and angry, Lucian is also quite friendly. As Alabaster informs the human, his heart is very kind and warm. Despite never raising a Pokémon, his knowledge on them is on par with that of a Pokédex. Regarding Pokémon and people, Lucian only sees the differences society has outlined between the two. As of right now, he harbors a subtle belief that humanity is less biological and more psychological. He consistently ponders a “Ralts” as a “girl.” Likewise, he subconsciously refers to an all grown-up Desiree, now a Gardevoir as a “lady” and a “woman.” 

Lucian hates his father. He believes Red abandoned his family to pursue competitive Pokémon Training. The combination of Pokémon allergies and no father figure made Lucian’s childhood and early adult years forlorn and depressing. As loving and supportive as his mother might have been, Sabrina is a Gym Leader who works long hours away from home. Thus, Lucian has spent most of his years reading, sleeping, and wishing his circumstances and past were different. Until this morning, he had no friends, neither human nor Pokémon. For a long time, he even labeled himself an outcast.

As the son of Sabrina and Red, Lucian is both a Psychic and Dark Dreamer. As a Psychic who can bend the Light, Lucian can read the minds of Pokémon, hearing their thoughts and exploring their brain. As Alabaster just explained, Lucian’s allergies are really an ability to see the Dark Flames of Pokémon, a la their souls. This curse/gift was passed on to him by Red, who according to the Ninetails is also a Dark Dreamer. While the Light is more direct, the Dark is more intimate and depending on the Pokémon, even painful to see. The mind tells, the soul shows. A Psychic can read someone else’s past like a book. A Dark Dreamer can see and interact with that past. When Lucian visits Alabaster’s Dark Flame, he meets Kindle, a Vulpix who exists as a scar lodged in the Ninetails’ memory.

What should be noted is that Red was the first Dark Dreamer. The origins of the Dark Dreamer must remain cryptic, but know that their conception is the result of imbalance. Dark Dreamers/Soul Eaters exist to restore balance in a world dominated by humans. Dark Dreamers possess the ability to see and understand the pain Pokémon carry. Red’s unique bond with Pokémon had a profound influence on him, compelling The Legend to devote his life to those who needed it most (dismantle Team Rocket for example, a group which maltreats Pokémon). As Lucian understands it, his “shitty” father abandoned their family to pursue competitive ventures, but there is much more to Red’s story than that. When Lucian begins to explore his Dark powers, connecting with Desiree and Alabaster (among others) and understanding their secrets, pasts, and souls, I wonder how he will adapt.     

 

**Desiree:**

Aliases: Shiny Sister

Age: 21

Affiliations: Lucian (boyfriend), Alabaster (friend), Albina (Shiny Sister), Master Malamar (Lord of the Legion)  

Species: Pokémon (Gardevoir)

Typing: Psychic/Fairy

Occupation: Legion Puppet Master, Lucian’s Gardevoir

Abilities: Psychic telepathy/telekinesis, Fairy Attacks, Surviving, Levitating, Acrobatics, Mind control  

Love Interest: Lucian

Weapon: Psychokinesis, Moon, Knife 

Goal: To find happiness (a warm blanket), to not feel like a monster, to fulfill her obligations to Albina and manipulate Lucian, to obey the orders of Master Malamar    

Past: Junkie loner (Drifter), The Big Riddle Inn (Sex Slave), Gray’s Pokémon (Abused by him)   

Status: Alive

Random Facts: As a 12 year old Ralts, Desiree was captured by a Trainer named Gray. Gray was controlling, cruel, and abusive. At 15, now a Kirlia she escaped his ownership. For a time, she lived on the streets and took care of herself. Eventually, the Shiny was found and kidnapped by Team Rocket who brought her to The Big Riddle Inn to begin life anew. The “Sapphire Jewel” was a slave there for four years where she suffered unimaginable abuse and torment at the hands of sick humans. At nineteen, Desiree, Albina, and Einstein led a revolt. After earning her freedom, the Shiny Gardevoir decided to set off on her own.

Living in Goldenrod City, she has struggled to find her place. At the present, her worst enemy is herself, though predatory humans amplify her depression. To deal with everyday stress, painful memories, and numbness, she worships physical sensation, be it pain or fun. In terms of fun, she usually finds it in the form of instant gratification. Various drugs give her what she seeks, usually stimulants but sometimes she enjoys narcotics and opiates. Unfortunately, the  _fun_  she finds quickly tapers, and in its wake she is left more depressed and desperate than before.

A habitual smoker, loner, and misanthropist, she loathes/fears humans yet is reluctant to harm them due to both societal conditioning and a kind heart. She is not aware of her having a kind and very forgiving heart. Numb and deadened feelings make the Gardevoir wonder if her monsters have turned her into one of them.  

Terrified of the unknown, this anxiety correlates with her fear of Dark types like her Shiny Sister Albina whose mind and intentions she cannot easily ascertain. Demurring, diffident, and not used to genuine affection, Desiree does possess the ability to read the minds and detect the emotions of human beings, though predicting their impulsiveness proves strenuous. She can produce human speech, though it is painful to do so because of her weak lungs. She has trust issues, internal turmoil, and a drug addiction. Despite her problems, she greatly values her freedom, independence, and autonomy. Above all else she seeks a warm blanket.  

The Gardevoir has been employed by the Pokémon Legion, who is led by Master Malamar. Her Dark Sister, Albina who is also a member of the Legion, asked her to manipulate Lucian into opening The Gate. Evidently, this human is the son of Red and Sabrina. Desiree adores Red but hates Sabrina for unknown reasons. Desiree is not aware that Lucian is going to be the same violet-eyed human she met long ago, her would-be-Trainer before Gray captured her. She is nervous about working with a human, and even reluctant to drag herself over to Saffron City.  

A very powerful Gardevoir with a dark past and dubious instructions, things will get dicey when Desiree develops feelings for the man she is supposed to be deceiving.

 

**Albina:**

Aliases: Apollyon, Shiny Human, Daughter of the Dark Moon, Queen of the Bottomless Pit, Perfection Incarnate

Age: 20  

Affiliations: Einstein, Desiree, Alabaster, Pokémon Legion  

Species: Legendary Pokémon (Apollyon)/Soul Eater  

Typing: Dark/Fairy

Occupation: Sovereign of the Dark, Legion Hunter

Abilities: Deceiving, Acrobatics, Hand-to-hand combat, Flying, Dark Attacks, Fairy Attacks, Superhuman strength and agility, Imprisoning humans in Pokéballs, Concealing Legendary Pokémon form in humanoid container, Feasting upon the Dark

Love Interest: Einstein

Weapon: Claws, Fangs, Wings, Dark, Moon, Pokéballs   

Goal: Revenge, Manipulate Lucian into opening The Gate, Unknown   

Past: Rising Pokémon Trainer (8 Kanto Badges), 5 Pokémon Children (Adopted Mother), The Big Riddle Inn (Sex Slave), Human home (Adopted daughter of two elderly humans who found her at a child)

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Cunning, deceitful, and enigmatic, Albina’s intentions are as murky as her true identity. Mistaken by her adopted parents and later Team Rocket as a Shiny (Albino) human, Albina is in fact Apollyon, a Legendary Pokémon and the first and only combination Dark/Fairy type. As the Daughter of the Dark Moon, she is a divine entity with a tragic past, an Angel (& Soul Eater) born of Pokémon’s hopes but defiled by the most heinous of human atrocities. Now, this fallen angel is metamorphosing into a demon, and the Dark Queen is just beginning to discover her true power. Beyond her charred humanoid container are 8-inch claws, rows of sharp fangs, a long forked tongue, and giant wings, among other things. She also possesses a profoundly deep, demonic voice which can terrify even the most intrepid of humans.  

After suffering unimaginable horrors at The Big Riddle Inn for 9 long years, she escaped with little ill will towards the rest of humanity. However, as she witnessed the plight of Pokémon around the world, her heart began to blacken. The loss of her adopted children was the final nail in her heart’s coffin. The Great Fire of Viridian City took her five children, blackening her on the inside as well as burning her wings and skin when she sacrificed almost everything in a desperate attempt to rescue them. Unfortunately, her children were beyond saving. Begging her to put them out of their misery, a horrified Albina fulfilled their request. However, she made sure the great power they amassed after training them did not go to waste (how did she do that?? TheEnvy smells a mystery). Albina and Einstein were the only Pokémon to survive the terrorist attack on the Pokémon Center.  

The Dark Queen hates anything she deems _rotten_ , and this favorite word of hers stems from an inherent aversion to _Poison_. As a part Fairy-Pokémon she is very much aware of her weakness to Poison Attacks. Like her Shiny Sister, Desiree, Albina usually dons a pallid evening gown which also hints at her being a Fairy type. Tattooed on her back are two black wings. In actuality, these marks represent real wings. Her true Legendary Pokémon form is that of a winged demon.  

When Lucian looks into her scarlet eyes, the sole reason he does not immediately see and feel her Dark Flame and thus immense pain, is because the demon is a Dark/Fairy type. Dark and Fairy both resist the Dark. Furthermore, Lucian cannot explore her mind. No Psychic can do that, neither Desiree nor even Lord Malamar. To Apollyon, the sky mother (Moon) is a double-edged sword derived of her combination Dark and Fairy typing.

Originally, she planned on changing the world from the inside, following the laws and rules set in place by humanity. Now, her ambitions have been radically altered. She has become a habitual con-artist and a very successful one, able to blend in with human society and assume the guise of a human (Pokémon Trainer, Officer Jenny, or even an IP agent). Whether she used to be human as a child or was born with dormant power lurking inside and waiting to be unleashed remains unknown. Like the legendary Red, she is a Soul Eater with scarlet eyes. Her loyalties are dubious, even to those she professes to love (Einstein and Desiree).

After imprisoning Blaine and Lieutenant Surge in Pokéballs, the Legendary Pokémon, her faithful Ditto, and Ninetails travel to Saffron City to abduct Sabrina. Sabrina was neither at the Gym nor at her home. Albina believes Team Rocket became suspicious of the disappearances and thus moved Sabrina out of harm’s way. To her immense satisfaction, they sent Koga to displace Lucian. Albina intercepted Koga, capturing him in a Pokéball. She is now manipulating Lucian into becoming a Pokémon Trainer who will not only aid her in her fight against Team Rocket/Plasma, but open The Gate.  

As is Albina’s understanding, Red and Sabrina had an affair which resulted in Lucian’s birth. Albina doesn’t understand how the two could have conceived a child, as Red is the famous hero who disposed of Team Rocket and Sabrina is a former and possibly even current member of Team Rocket. Nonetheless, she venerates Red, who devoted his life to protecting Pokémon. Red is also the only one who opened The Gate. Albina knows Red was defeated by Team Rocket two years ago, though she doesn’t know his fate. If Red opened The Gate, perhaps Lucian can as well. The Gate will only open for a Pokémon Trainer who is worthy.

Unfortunately for her, Lucian and her lover Einstein share almost the same exact facial features. Albina is concerned Lucian will realize that the Ditto’s chosen face is practically a mirror-image of his own. To prevent this undermining scenario, Albina guilt-trips her Shiny Sister Desiree into puppeteering Lucian. As soon as Desiree arrives, she will replace the Dark Queen who will depart from Lucian’s company along with the Ditto.         

Albina’s morality and principles are completely up to readers, and you may decide if she is a Chaotic Good, Lawful Evil, Chaotic Evil, or definitely Neutral character. Whatever the case may be, Albina is a product of her past, a demon spawned by human regret.   

 

 **Einstein** :

Aliases: Crossbreed

Age: Some 60 years old

Affiliations: Albina (His lover, Master)

Species: Pokémon (Ditto)

Typing: Varies

Occupation: Albina’s faithful lover and strongest (& only) Pokémon

Abilities: Imposter, Imagination complete with photographic memory, Flawless Transmutation

Love Interest: Albina

Weapon: Art   

Goal: Revenge, Complete Masterpiece (chosen face), Obey Albina’s every whim   

Past: 5 Pokémon children (Adopted father), The Big Riddle Inn (Sex Slave), Traveling Circus (Performer), Henry and Charlotte (Neglected by Henry, the Ditto fell in love with Charlotte and provided her with artistic inspiration)

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Extremely envious, Einstein the Ditto deems himself to be a deformed human. He fancies looking handsome by people standards, and strives to be perfect which for him is also means authentic. Einstein is inherently genderless, but during thirteen years with Charlotte, his first human master’s wife and a woman the Ditto fell in love with, the pink slime developed a desire to be a male human. His man-pretty magnum opus, inspired by Albina’s idol Red and Lucian’s father, is never truly finished, and he makes obsessive modifications to his face, predominately his nose.

Despite widespread jealously, odium, and an identity-crisis, he is very gentle and sensitive. The reason the meathead chooses to be bald is because the ever-thoughtful Ditto loves a Shiny human whose head of snowy-white hair was singed completely off in the Great Fire of Viridian City. He follows Albina’s orders implicitly but wonders why “Perfection Incarnate” loves him, as he feels imperfect and thus unworthy. To show and prove his love to her, he constantly searches for romantic expressions he may copy, even something as simple as a Pidgeotto giving food to his mate. 

Einstein has a penchant for Transmuting into his deceased adopted son, Wrath. The Ditto and the Tyranitar were very close. Transmutations into his five children are flawless. It should be noted that Transmutation is different than Transformation. Even though his children are long since deceased, the prodigious Ditto can preserve their form, stats, and power until he runs out of energy. By employing his art and vast imagination, he easily slaughters most of those who oppose Albina, Pokémon and human alike. Besides assuming Wrath’s massive form, Einstein usually maintains his humanoid body in fights. Mutating limbs into weapons is the _Crossbreed’s_ specialty.

While the Ditto fancies being genuinely human, something which is inherently unattainable, The Gate is of particular interest to his lover. According to the Daughter of the Dark Moon, “Beyond The Gate perfection awaits.” Einstein doesn’t know what this means exactly, but he craves perfection. This perfection Albina alludes to seems to be meant for him.

While at The Big Riddle Inn with Albina and Desiree, it was the three of them who paved the way for all of the slaves’ freedom. After years of anguish, particularly witnessing Albina’s torment, the Ditto initiated the revolt. At the time, Albina was an 18 year old woman and had not yet evolved into her Legendary Form. Desiree was 19. Einstein was their only hope. Letting his gentle nature fall by the wayside, the pink glob mutated into the ferociousCrossbreed and the rest is history. “The Pink Pieces of the Past” I’ve already written, as a matter of fact. That anecdote will be released when the story is ready for it.         

 

 **Alabaster** :

Aliases: Ally, Ninetails, The White Sun

Age: 893

Affiliations: Lucian, Desiree, Albina, Pokémon Legion  

Species: Pokémon (Ninetails)

Typing: Fire

Occupation: Legion Overseer, Lucian’s Ninetails/Guide    

Abilities: Peerless Pain, Drought, Shining his Light

Love Interest: Unknown

Weapon: Fire

Goal: Revenge, help Lucian, Unknown

Past: Unknown, Blaine’s Ninetails, Vast history with humans

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Pain is a major theme for many characters. Dark pasts and dreadful secrets are galore. Though it is no competition, the ancient Ninetails carries with him the most excruciating agony. Even for the Queen of the Bottomless Pit, that peerless pain proves overwhelming. When Lucian looks into Alabaster’s eyes, the Dark Angel is immediately greeted by a searing and almost unbearable pain.

The Ninetails’ advice/wisdom, which has a very profound and positive effect on Lucian, is ironically the source of the Pokémon’s pain. “ _By helping someone else, you help yourself._ ”

If Lucian is to succeed and reach his potential, Alabaster stresses that he must be willing to embrace and love others. That also means opening his heart and leaving himself vulnerable. The Ninetails very much understands the risks, and hopes the human’s exposed heart does not become corrupted.

For Alabaster, the consequence of helping others has ravaged his body, mind, and soul. When Alabaster begs Lucian to open up and show his love to others, he also touches upon the hazards of a kind and vulnerable heart. This concept is hypocritical. Alabaster’s devotion and undying loyalty has resulted in betrayals and backstabbing. As much as the Ninetails loves humans, humans he trusted, men and women, such individuals are responsible for his peerless pain and not just the humanity he has lost his faith in.

While he is a member of the Pokémon Legion, his goals do not completely align with those of Lord Malamar. When the Ninetails whispers to Lucian the story passed onto him by his birthmother, he reveals the primary source of his motivation. His understanding of the true nature of humanity compels him to seek change in the world.        

Alabaster trusts Albina, but cannot shine his Light upon her and thus he cannot communicate telepathically. Alternatively, the Daughter of the Dark Moon has shared her Dark Flame with the Ninetails. Both know and understand the other’s pain. Both of them also hate Blaine. Albina hates the Fire Master for being the bribed owner of The Big Riddle Inn. As for Alabaster, Blaine is the Ninetails’ former Master. Yes, you read that correctly. Alabaster was Blaine’s Ninetails. I wonder why he hates Blaine. Oh wait, I already know that! Lucian will find out why.     

 

 **Red** :

Aliases: The Legend

Age: 38

Affiliations: Pikachu, Sabrina, Lucian, Cynthia  

Species: Human/Dark Dreamer

Occupation: Pokémon Liberator, Pokémon Champion, Pokémon Master

Abilities: Seeing and Eating Dark, Sharing his Flame, Legendary Pokémon Trainer

Love Interest: Sabrina

Weapon: Pikachu, Dark Attacks

Goal: Unknown  

Past: Unknown, Pokémon Liberator, Sabrina’s Secret Lover, Lucian’s Father, Pokémon Champion, Hero who single-handedly dismantled Team Rocket and assisted in the downfall of Team Plasma 

Status: Unknown

Fun Fact: Red is very important, and not just because he is Lucian’s father, Sabrina’s secret lover, and Albina’s idol. He is a Dark Dreamer. He was a Pokémon Liberator. At present, his whereabouts and status are unknown.      

 

 **Sabrina** :

Aliases: The Mistress of Psychic Pokémon

Age: 41

Affiliations: Lucian, Red, Alakazam  

Species: Psychic Human

Occupation: Saffron City Gym Leader

Abilities: Psychic telepathy/telekinesis

Love Interest: Red

Goal: Unknown 

Past: Lucian’s mother, Gym Leader, Red’s Secret Lover, Team Rocket Supervisor, Her Pokémon were murdered by an evil Haunter as a child except for her Abra (correlates somewhat with the Pokémon manga and is the rationale behind Lucian’s inability to meet Alakazam)   

Status: Hypnotized at the Team Rocket Headquarters    

Fun Fact: Unbeknownst to most she used to be a high ranking member of Team Rocket. Red dismantled Team Rocket. The two later had a son, though Red was never around…probably all a coincidence. Beast captured her and brought her Hypnotized and unconscious body to the Team Rocket secret base.   

 

 **Koga** :

Aliases: The Ninja Master

Age: 78

Affiliations: Janine, Giovanni, Team Rocket, Indigo Plateau Pokémon League  

Species: Human

Occupation: Elite Four   

Abilities: Ninja

Love Interest: None

Goal: Keep Janine safe at all costs 

Past: Representing Team Rocket, Assassinating and Kidnapping on Giovanni’s behalf, exchanged money for Albina and kidnapped Einstein (both placed into sexual servitude by Team Rocket)   

Status: Rotting away in one of Albina’s Pokéballs 

Fun Fact: To keep Koga on board, Giovanni uses his daughter as collateral. If Koga abandons or betrays Team Rocket, Janine will be harmed or even executed. (Remember, Giovanni didn’t know about Lucian’s existence. Maybe if he did, he could have forced Sabrina to resume working for him as well. This is important!). Koga really has no choice but to work for Giovanni. Currently, he is rotting inside of one of Albina’s Pokéballs. Out of all of the Rocket Gym Leaders, Albina hates him the most, partly because of her aversion to Poison Pokémon, which she finds _rotten_ , and his being a catalyst to her and Einstein’s degradation.    

 

**Lieutenant Surge**

Aliases: The Lightning American

Age: 55

Affiliations: Vermilion City Gym  

Species: Human

Occupation: Gym Leader   

Abilities: None

Love Interest: None

Goal: To run his Gym 

Past: Gym Leader, Team Rocket Supervisor, Criminal (thief, hitman, rapist), Soldier, Drunk     

Status: Rotting away in one of Albina’s Pokéballs 

Random Facts: Abused both a Shiny Kirlia and Shiny human at The Big Riddle Inn. When Albina got her revenge, she ordered Einstein to _show_ the Lieutenant the same pain he caused her before imprisoning him inside a Pokéball. What that means is up to your interpretation.

 

 **Blaine** :

Aliases: The Hotheaded Quiz Master

Age: 86

Affiliations: Cinnabar Island, The Big Riddle Inn  

Species: Human

Occupation: Owner of The Big Riddle Inn, Former Gym Leader   

Abilities: None

Love Interest: Wife

Goal: To run his lodge, to make money   

Past: The Big Riddle Inn, Gym Leader, Team Rocket Scientist/Researcher 

Status: Rotting away in one of Albina’s Pokéballs 

Random Facts: He used to be Alabaster’s Master.     

 

 **Gray** :

Aliases: Desiree’s Former Trainer, Jackass

Age: 22

Affiliations: Skuntank  

Species: Human

Occupation: None   

Abilities: None

Love Interest: None

Goal: To forget the past  

Past: Abused alcohol and drugs, Abused Desiree and stole her virginity, Abused by parents (Father was a drunk who beat him, mother watched and sometimes participated, neither loved him, neither wanted him, both reminded him of that fact, both called him a monster. Sadly, his accusers who were monsters themselves turned their son into a monster)     

Status: Rotting away in one of Albina’s Pokéballs 

Random Facts: Gray represents an underlying theme in this story. We are all products of our past.

 

 **Taxon** :

Aliases: Hunchback  

Age: 65

Affiliations: Victor, Bane  

Species: Human

Occupation: Unknown   

Abilities: Unknown

Love Interest: Victor

Goal: Unknown  

Past: Unknown, Rescued a Banette as a child

Status: Alive

Random Facts: The hunchback is from the Kalos region and speaks fluent English and French. French is the name of the language, that is on purpose but enough on that. She owns a Banette named Bane which can Mega Evolve. She and her husband, Victor, are rude, ageist, and very confrontational. For some reason she is very interested in Alabaster and his golden-white coat.    

 

 **Victor** :

Aliases: Flea-face

Age: 70

Affiliations: Victor  

Species: Human

Occupation: Unknown   

Abilities: Unknown

Love Interest: Taxion

Goal: Unknown  

Past: Unknown     

Status: Alive

Random Facts: The flea-face threatened Albina completely unaware of who he was really disrespecting. Scratches at his sideburns with ardor and probably needs to take a shower. Both Victor and his wife, Taxon own powerful Ghost Pokémon.    

 

 **Looker** :

Aliases: Unknown

Age: 51

Affiliations: Hannah, Cynthia  

Species: Human

Occupation: International Police Investigator

Abilities: Scrupulous

Love Interest: None

Goal: To find a man with purple hair, to locate the Three Red-Eyed Pokémon, to solve the case of suspicious vanishing occurring across multiple regions.    

Past: His Croagunk died protecting him.       

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Unlike Albina, Looker really is an IP agent doing almost exactly what she claims to Lucian she is doing.

 

 **Giovanni** :

Aliases: The Boss

Age: 69

Affiliations: Team Rocket/Plasma

Species: Human

Occupation: Team Rocket Boss

Abilities: Criminal Mastermind

Love Interest: Ariana

Goal: Unknown   

Past: Alliance with Team Plasma, Suffering constants defeats at the hands of Red, Gym Leader,   

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Giovanni has been confined to a wheelchair. Wheeling him around is his loyal and very powerful Poliwrath.  Ruthless and disciplinary, the Boss had his Rhydon mutilate Archer’s arm when the Executive failed him one to many times. His lover and high-ranking subordinate, Ariana operates as a popular news anchor who manipulates the public system, delivering ideologically-driven and slanted information. Team Rocket’s resurgence and alliance with Team Plasma remain covert. Their once invincible threat, Red, has been neutralized. Team Rocket’s black market dealings (arms trade, weapons shipments, human/Pokémon trafficking) have made the organization extremely wealthy. They enjoy media and political influence. Their alliance with Team Plasma grants them access to more advanced tech. Both groups have strong Pokémon, illegal firearms, and ballistic weapon capabilities. Giovanni’s Ultimate Weapon is the synthetic hybrid Mythic Pokémon and Pokémon Trainer, B.E.A.S.T.    

 

 **Beast** :

Aliases: [Bipedal – Electronic – Animas – Spirit – Tomb] 

Age: 2

Affiliations: Sabrina, Team Rocket/Plasma, Shadow Triad

Species: Pokémon/Man/Machine

Typing: Dark/Ghost or Dark/Steel

Occupation: Ultimate Weapon & Ultimate Pokémon Trainer, Pokémon Champion    

Abilities: Superhuman Strength and Agility, able to pass through solid objects, Ultimate Pokémon Trainer, Type Alteration, Unknown

Love Interest: Unknown

Weapon: Dark Attacks, Ghost Attacks, Steel Attacks, Unknown

Past: Abducted Sabrina from the Saffron City Gym, Holder of two Pokémon Championship Titles, Can’t remember

Status: Alive

Random Facts: Part Man, part Pokémon, and part Machine, the synthetic and cybernetic Beast can also switch his typing. He can assume a Dark/Ghost Pokémon mode or Dark/Steel. Alterations to his body modes are almost instantaneous.

Beast doesn’t know who he is. He abducted Sabrina in the middle of the night for some reason. Despite retaining an intrinsic and automated ability to speak, he chooses not to, instead remaining ubiquitously silent. According to Team Rocket, when the Ultimate Weapon Battles he does not issue verbal commands to his Pokémon, yet he never loses. The only words he has ever pronounced are, “We must save her.”

B.E.A.S.T. = Spirtomb + 103 Yamask Sacrifices + Grand Anima + Synthetic Parts/Body/Limbs/Skin         

 

 **Master Malamar** :

Aliases: Lord Malamar, Lord of Light and Dark

Age: 50,000+

Affiliations: Pokémon Legion 

Species: Pokémon (Malamar)

Typing: Dark/Psychic

Occupation: Lord of the Pokémon Legion

Abilities: Dark Attacks, Psychic Attacks, can see the Light & Dark, Genius with near limitless knowledge and insight 

Love Interest: Unknown

Goal: To open The Gate, Unknown…see the random facts for a few hints

Past: Unknown

Status: Alive

Random Fact: A megalomaniac who reviles humanity and believes Pokémon, many of whom are superior to their Earthly tyrants in every way should overthrow them. The ancient Pokémon understands that the human regime is held together by science and that their technology controls society and subjugates Pokémon. Mindful of the power of human propaganda and conditioning, he seeks to employ the same tactics on his increasingly zealous followers. As an immensely powerful Psychic, he “ _whispered_ ” to his Pokémon brethren across oceans and mountains, calling to anyone willing to listen and offering them a place in a new world. In his pursuit of global revolution, his actions, plans, and espousals remain furtive.

Legion Hunters are sent to find and capture humans, powerful Trainers or simply disgraceful and deemed evil doers. Puppet Masters can control these humans and command their experienced Pokémon. Lord Malamar’s most infamous and productive Hunter is the Legendary Fairy/Dark Pokémon Apollyon, who he does not trust as he cannot read her mind and judge her true intentions.         

 

 **Cynthia** :

Aliases: Unknown 

Age: 33

Affiliations: Looker, Red, Garchomp   

Species: Human

Occupation: Pokémon Champion, Investigator 

Abilities: Master Pokémon Trainer

Love Interest: Unknown

Goal: To find the assailants who stole one of her prized Pokémon   

Past: Pokémon Champion who once concurrently held three titles

Status: Unknown

Random Fact: The Spiritomb Team Rocket/Plasma pilfered to complete Beast belongs to her.

 

**Mewtwo:**

Aliases: Unknown  

Age: Unknown

Affiliations: Red 

Species: Pokémon (Mewtwo)

Typing: Psychic 

Occupation: Unknown

Abilities: Infinite Knowledge/Comprehension/Power 

Love Interest: Unknown

Goal: Unknown

Past: In a mansion on Cinnabar Island, Mewtwo suffered horrific gene splicing experimentation by Team Rocket. Tampering with his DNA augmented his power, but also made the Pokémon cruel and vicious. Eventually, he escaped Cinnabar Island, destroying the mansion before fleeing to Cerulean Cave. As it suffered in solitude, its limitless Psychic powers lent him a true understanding of humanity and the danger they posed to Pokémon. During this time his rage mounted, as did his desire for revenge. One day, a man visited the cave. This man’s mind Mewtwo could not see. His name was Red.

Status: Alive

Fun Fact: Mewtwo has been referenced several times, and a few have been furtive and indirect. His significance remains obfuscated.    

* * *

 

Other notable characters with expanding or planned roles: Ghetsis, Shadow Triad, Janine, Hannah, Charlotte, Henry, Pikachu, Alakazam, Kindle, Archer, Proton, Petrel, Silver, Lance, Jesse, James, Bane

I hope you found these not only helpful, but interesting. By now, my hope is you realize I have a story to tell.

 


	13. The Arrival

Act II

Without Albina's swaying ass to follow, Lucian actually had to pay attention to where he was going. Saffron was a dense metropolis. The urban interior looked largely foreign to him and yet he did not mosey. His tourist legs knew exactly where to take him. The Magnet Train Station was on the northwestern corner of the city. Navigating through the maze was easy enough. North, south, east, west, Lucian was one of those individuals with an internal compass. He always knew the direction he was facing.

Before long, the young man and his Ninetails passed by the restaurant they had dined at the previous evening. Their current destination was just a ways across the street.

" _You're_  quite eager," he heard Alabaster's tiny voice quake inside his skull. The Ninetails' telepathic tone was soft and rather jaunty as he trotted closely behind the young man. " _Your heart is beating twice as fast as it normally does_."

" _Just a little nervous_ ," Lucian admitted. The fact that the fox could discern his heart and appraise his pulse slightly amplified those nerves. Ninetails could do more than that, of course. He could also detect the emotions of others, human and Pokémon alike. Gardevoir could do that as well.

" _I wonder if she will recognize me_ ," the Psychic whispered.

" _A human with purple hair_ ," Alabaster replied, his internal voice echoing sarcasm. " _Doubtful. I'm sorry, human. I fear there is nothing about your exterior which might serve to jog her memory_."

A smirk spread over Lucian's face. " _You're supposed to be helping, not mocking me_."

" _On the contrary, being mocked builds strength and character. I am helping you develop thicker skin_."

Human lips tilted further. " _Mock away old man, but leave the hair out of this_!"

" _No guarantees, kit_."

The Magnet Train Station was as gigantic and high-ceilinged as a stadium. Even at midday it was crowded like a mall with the holidays just around the corner. Shops and restaurants bordered the rims, distractions for waiting passengers. Many indulged in those distractions.

Everything looked exactly like Lucian remembered. Nine years ago, his mother had escorted him here. Together, they took the Magnet Train to Goldenrod City.

That was the same day Lucian met Desiree. The same day he failed her.

Eventually, the young man and his Ninetails came to an array of large rectangular vending machines which dispensed train tickets for a modest fee or at a much loftier price annual passes. Beyond these boxes were small gateways fitted with rotating metal bars. Only by inserting a ticket in one of the adjacent slots would the bars rotate to allow one's journey to continue. To proceed any further, Lucian would either have to make a purchase or simply vault one of the gates. Those bars came up just below the hip.

That second option was a no-go. Though he refused to label himself a goody-two-shoes, any actions straying outside the bounds of his morality he avidly sought to avoid, even if they proved tempting.

There was a third option. They could just wait for Desiree right there in the vast atrium. After she arrived it's not like they were going to hop on the Train and travel elsewhere. Rendezvousing with a Shiny Gardevoir was the objective. On an electronic message board blue numbers and letters advertised that the Magnet Train would be arriving in "19 Minutes." The time was 9:41 a.m.

Albina told him Desiree would arrive before noon. Hopefully she was going to be on that 10 O'clock train. Or at least the 11:00 a.m. one.

Fuck waiting there. When the Magnet Train arrived, Lucian wanted to be right there the moment she stepped off and out into the open.

Thus, he decided to go ahead and purchase a ticket.

The escalators descending into the subway system were strewn with expressionless drones, each trapped in their own little worlds. Some had Holo Caster's in hand, fingers prodding the touchscreen with jaded motions. Others listened to their jams, headsets on or earbuds entrenched, eyes blank, minds elsewhere while their body suffered the torment of weekday banality.

Lucian's perception was clear and focused. Shuffling down a long escalator two steps at a time, he zipped past the drones. In the company of the tangible weight on his shoulders were vestige jitters. Not a Braviary or a Mandibuzz, his doubts were gone for the most part, replaced by anticipation and small doses of anxiety. As for the orange backpack, it wasn't especially heavy. Knowing he was moments away from being reunited with Desiree, Lucian hardly noticed.

When Lucian and Alabaster reached the bottom, there was only one way for them to go. Forward. Though below ground, the vault was well lit. Alternating red and white beams of light radiated from above, spilling the bowels of the place with a rich Pokéball radiance. Waffle indentations lined the cylindrical walls and ceiling as well. The long tube continued down a straightway before finally branching off in two separate directions.

Dual signs up ahead. To the right, the Metro. To the left, the Magnet Train. The two of them veered left.

* * *

Inside Saffron City, the high speed rail bolted towards the station. Nearly noon, the Magnet Train would be arriving at its hourly rate as usual.

It was just an ordinary day for most of the passengers aboard the Train; ordinary except for a very specific demographic.

Hushed pandemonium afflicted one of the cars. Twisted faces looked a mixture of blue and ashen.

The palest of them all belonged to a Gardevoir with sapphire arms and hair.

Crippled and unconscious nearby, Ursaring's chest heaved as it exuded faint breaths. A dazed Bradley lay sprawled on the ground, wheezing pitifully as blue eyes blinked rapidly. The young punk couple cowered in the most fear, an unborn child in the woman's womb and a pocket knife perched at the man's throat.

The remaining spectators acted like a school of Magikarp confronted by a Sharpedo. Frozen bodies bordered the sides, smothering the oversized windows and trying to act inconspicuous as not to garner the predator's attention.

The Gardevoir wasn't watching all of them. But she was listening. Listening to the teeming thoughts, all she could really do after that was hope none of them would do something rash and impulsive, a regretful action which might elicit a regretful response from her. To dispel any bouts of courage, she resorted to making threats. She wouldn't murder anyone, never, no matter what happened she wasn't a killer, but they didn't know that.

" _Don't move, Edward_ ," she hollered telepathically as the tip of the knife applied stiff but not piercing pressure to the lump in his throat. " _That goes for all of you morons. I'm warning you. Don't move a muscle! No Pokéballs, no Holo Casters, and no goddamn heroics. Try calling the Police and I'll stop you before you can dial a digit. Stay quiet, breathe, blink, and remain calm. In a few minutes this will all be over. OKAY!?_ "

Heads nodded. Some slow, others rapid, all of them in unison.

Beyond the windows rectangular manmade mountains tipped the blue sky. Zipping along the high speed rail, the Magnet Train suddenly took a nosedive underground. Fortunately, they were nearing the station.

Orange eyes dabbed over the petrified couple. Rosanne was holding her fiancé close to her. Likewise, he was holding her close to him. Five-digit human hands were swathed over her protrusive belly.

The two parents hadn't decided on a name for her just yet. Within a matter of weeks, the fully developed child waiting inside Rosanne's belly would take her first breaths. When she did, they would be through tiny human lungs. Such a highly valued life. The destiny set before the human child was unclear, but there were limitless paths to pursue once she grew into a woman. Teacher, businesswoman, engineer, lawyer, scientist, Pokémon Trainer, or maybe she would devote her life to homeopathic altruism and become a  _nurse_  or a  _doctor_.

 _How should I feel_ , Desiree wondered as he looked through individual windows, appraising their thoughts, their lives, their dreams?  _Pokémon like me_.  _We don't get to choose_.  _We never get what we want_.

Orange eyes danced around, inspecting minds and faces. Extrasensory perception wasn't really required. They were scared. Every single one of the humans, short, tall, skinny, lean, fat, man, woman, child. For most of them, this ride from Johto to Kanto had become the most traumatizing event they have ever experienced. Though discreet, the anxious quivers and tearful tremors started pissing her off.

On the verge of demanding they hold back their pathetic cries, as the situation was usually reversed, she was usually the one staving off a bastion of tears while scared, helpless, at someone else's mercy, she honed in on a human child. A small boy. Six feet away he was crying as quietly as he could, his gushing nose buried in the pants of his mother's leg.

The fin in Desiree's chest wilted, the pointed edge protruding between her breasts sagging. That mother really thought her child's life was in peril. Then there was Rosanne. The mother to-be was actually mulling the possibility of her daughter growing up without a father.

 _These morons actually think I'm the mons_ –

"–You're an animal."

Orange eyes grazed over the mother to-be, her cheeks wet but eyes glossy with outrage.

Desiree's psychokinetic grasp on the knife nearly faltered. Flooded with emotion, she whispered to the mistaken couple, "I am not a monster. I just want to be free like all of you."

Slowing, brakes screeching, the Train finally came to a halt.

She could cry later. Or even better, treat herself to a bit of Stirring and let the world melt away. Much better.

When the doors slid apart, the Gardevoir didn't dawdle.

Outside, human travelers were congested along the side of the Train, most tensely waiting for current passengers to exit. None of them were expecting a sapphire sparkle to burst into the open.

Desiree whisked past the startled spectators, threading her way through the human patchwork when there was a lane but not caring if she had to shove obstacles aside to create one. Crossing paths with Einstein was the plan. The Crossbreed had to be here somewhere.

It was twelve p.m.

Technically, she was supposed to get there before noon, but come on, it was noon. Close enough. If she wasn't lucky enough to bump into Einstein, Albina, Alabaster, and their human pet she would have to lay low and hide.

Rancorous sounds erupted from behind. Pitched yelling and sobbing. With the threat gone, the traumatized humans began producing the usual aftereffect: gaudy victimization.

"An animal's on the loose!" someone shrieked. It sounded like Rosanne. Erratic screams followed in its wake.

The Gardevoir knew she had to put as much distance as she could between the train and herself.

"Oh my god it's a Shiny Gar–" Desiree flung him aside like a ragdoll using psychokinesis. "Ow! Hey, what's your problem, Pokémon?"

Taking her eyes off the path set out in front for just one second, glancing around, searching for Einstein's ridiculous height, she ended up crashing face-first into a bulky male human. At first she was relieved. She thought it was him until she saw the porky face with a hairy patch sprouting above the upper lip.

When less than one-hundred pounds of Gardevoir bumped into over two-hundred plus pounds of man blubber, the Pokémon bounced off and plummeted butt-first to the ground. Unscathed, the human gawked for several moments before complacency folded over his face.

"You!" he snapped, pointing a stubby finger, "Don't move wild Pokémon!" A constrictive navy blue uniform enclosed his broad shoulders and rotund belly.

Don't move? Yeah right. Exercising psychokinesis, she pulled an invisible rug out from underneath him. The bigger they are the harder they fall, that idiom was so true. Flipping 360 degrees in the air he ended up plopping down on his ass pretty goddamn hard.

"Stop!" the Police Officer demanded as lied on his back, grappling with both hands at his sore rear end.

Desiree did just the opposite, drifting away as fast as she was able.

Someone caught her around the waist. When that happened, her nimble foot promptly caught him along the jaw.

Panicked, her whisky frame started colliding with many randoms who projected mixed reactions upon noticing the uniqueness of the offender. An expert at stealth, the Gardevoir's experience exposed and out in the open was desperate and reflexive. She pushed past the crowd, using Psychic to create lanes but also resorting to simply ramming her way past with her arms or the brunt of a shoulder.

The station wasn't as crowded as it was in the early morning or late afternoon, but the cacophony of indiscriminate shouting kept new passengers from filtering onto the Train as the rest poured out. Clogged, confusion spread like an epidemic. Within minutes the disease generated nothing short of bedlam.

Pushing past the edges of the confusion, Desiree came to an empty corridor between a wall and the railway. Columns lined the sides, erect in sets every twenty feet or so. She was out of breath. She needed to rest. To think. To hide. And search.

She slinked all the way to the edge of the platform and disappeared from view behind one of the last two columns. Straightening her body, she pressed her back against the concrete. Amidst the commotion, she couldn't pick apart any distinct voices. After calming down, or trying to, she risked stealing a few glances. Orange eyes rifled down the corridor and through the crowd. Distinguishing sizes, she searched for a gargantuan gentleman by the name of Einstein. Instead, out of all of them she glimpsed Rosanne and Edward. The couple was speaking to a mustachioed man wearing a navy blue uniform.

As soon as she spotted them she jerked her head back.

After a couple of minutes, she sensed two individuals approaching her hiding spot, a man and his quadruped Electric Pokémon, a Manectric.

Within seconds, they were close enough that she could make out the human muttering into his radio.

"Wild and extremely dangerous Pokémon at the Magnet Station. Requesting dispatch."

Radio chatter, buzzing, followed by a robotic sounding voice. "Species Ndex?"

"282. Shiny."

"Shiny…282. 10-4. I copy."

Goddammit! Where the hell was Albina? Her fin pounding, the Gardevoir pressed her frame as hard as she could against the cold concrete. Closing her eyes, she focused. Her Dark Sister had to be here somewhere, unless this really was a trick after all.

Using her mind, the Psychic Pokémon projected her Light around the perimeter. Like a spotlight, it began to search.

The Police Officer and his Electric deputy were close and getting closer. They were checking around the columns.

Beyond them, still no Einstein. The Ditto's thoughts were loud and messy and easy to find if you were looking for them. Where was he? Her search was frantic.

" _That fat bastard's searching for Desiree. We've got to find her first_."

What the hell was that? Silent voices she overheard. Somebody was shining their Light and didn't know she was strong enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. Even more bizarre, that somebody knew her by name. She focused as hard as she could on where that voice came from. Very close, she sensed a dreadfully Dark presence advancing towards her. That had to be Albina. So who was the Psychic?

" _I have her scent. Follow me my friend. Hurry! I know where she is._ "

The Gardevoir's shivering shoulders sagged as she let loose a small sigh. That tiny tremor belonged to a Ninetails. Alabaster was his name. He was an Overseer in the Legion and one of Albina's loyal cohorts. Tempted to steal a reassuring peek, she resisted.  _Just wait for him to come get me_ , she told herself as relief mixed with fright.

The shadow was also approaching.

* * *

Crimson cinders blazed as Alabaster darted around the clogged human traffic with lithe precision. In keeping pace, Lucian's broad shoulders inadvertently knocked into other people. Apologies ran rampant down his tongue as he followed the nine swirls. He could feel the visiting eyes of disgruntled strangers. A few of those eyes lingered before their owners finally lost interest.

More frequent than his apologies was the constant shouting and yelling.

"You're bleeding Mark!"

"Pokémon kicked me mouth…I think I lost a tooth!"

"A Shiny Gardevoir? You sure?"

"Yeah, I know what I saw."

"It threatened to kill my son on the train."

"It threatened to kill all of us!"

"Where'd it go?"

"I don't know but I'm calling the Police."

"I already did."

"There's an Officer right over there! Officer! Officer!"

The Magnet Train wasn't going anywhere. Most of everyone had trickled off but few were resuming business as usual. There was some kind of alarming disturbance. Apparently it was perpetrated by a Shiny Gardevoir.

"I've never been more fearful in my whole life," an irate looking lady told a portly Police Officer. "Animal threated to kill me, my fiancé, my baby…" she motioned first to one of the men standing next to her, a guy wearing a leather jacket and a bandana, before holding her stomach. Standing a short ways away, Lucian caught sight of the bulging belly. She was pregnant.

Overhearing her brief but frenzied testimony, as well as those of a few others, it appeared a wild Pokémon threatened passengers on one of the Train cars. The  _animal_ , as the pregnant woman described her, was even more  _hostile_  than she was  _wild_.

"Beautiful Shiny but unpredictable and dangerous," the punk with the bandana muttered. The guy looked tough until you noticed the black eye. "She did this to me," he stressed, pointing to the circular bruising. "She beat my Ursaring fair and square in Battle. Then she went absolutely mad. Brad here tried to catch her…" he motioned to one of his friends, a man with tattooed arms wearing a wife-beater. "…She assaulted him too."

"I was real nice to her," Brad grumbled, "real nice but out of nowhere she attacked me with her Psychic powers. I didn't even have my Pokémon out to defend myself."

"Someone's gotta catch her," the punk with the black eye muttered as he shook his head, "before someone else gets hurt."

Lucian's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe very much of what the flustered witnesses were claiming. If anything, he believed they were embroidering the details with fanciful bullshit. Whatever happened, he was positive Desiree did it out of self-defense. They were the instigators, not she.

The Police Officer might as well have been a fat bobble-head. As the witnesses recounted their experience, his double chin nodded relentlessly. A few inches above those rolls of fat the guy maintained a neatly trimmed mustache which Lucian could tell was his pride and joy. Somehow, he looked every bit as irate as the witnesses. For someone reason, he also kept scraping at one of his butt cheeks. "You see where it went, ma'am?" the butt-scratcher grunted.

"No," the pregnant woman spat. "Crazy bitch has a knife though! Tried to slit my fiancé's throat."

"I almost forgot about that detail," the punk grumbled. "Shiny put a knife to my throat…I…I really thought she was going to do it. My whole life flashed before my eyes."

A flash of worry had crossed the Officer's face. Waving an arm, "Disperse," he grunted, "Get out of the way. Move people!" Those around him took a few steps back. Lucian did as well.

The Officer reached for the lone Pokéball at his belt. "Come on out, Manny!"

Reflexes demanded Lucian shield his eyes from the white light. When his vision returned, a canine four-legged Pokémon stood rigid and alert at the Officer's side. It had a turquoise body, a pointy yellowish mane on its head and a no-nonsense air about it.

"Alright," the portly Officer growled. Looking self-assured as he glanced all around, "Did anybody see where the wild Pokémon went?"

"I saw it!" a woman exclaimed. Though her face betrayed anything but certainty, she pointed down a hollow corridor. "It looked like a Gardevoir. At least, I'm pretty sure…pretty sure I saw it go that way!"

"Me too!" another exclaimed. "She's right, it went that way." They both pointed in the same direction.

To Lucian it just looked like an alleyway leading to nothing. A dead end.

"Let's go Manny," the man in blue growled before marching towards that dead end. The Pokémon complemented its Master's growl with a pair of eager barks.

Along the narrow passage there was a wall on the left. No doors, no windows, just a concrete barrier. To the right the railway was naked, as the caboose of the Train did not reach that far down the strip. Pairs of concrete pillars bordered the corridor. Up ahead, the Police Officer and his Manectric began snooping around cautiously.

 _"_ _That fat bastard's searching for Desiree_ ," Lucian whispered telepathically to his Ninetails. " _We've got to find her first_."

Alabaster dropped his nose to the ground. After roughly half a minute his thick mass of swirls began to flare and the orange tips began to glow. " _I have her scent. Follow me my friend. Hurry! I know where she is._ "

The golden-white fox darted down the same corridor the Police Officer and his Manectric were inspecting. Alabaster slowed when the Manectric turned to face him.

" _You're up, human_."

" _Fuck_!  _Alright_ ,  _let's do this_."

The Police Officer didn't seem to notice Lucian approach. Not even when his Manectric loosened a low growl. The guy was droning into his radio when a broad hand landed on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, Officer?"

The portly man in blue whirled around. He was rather tall but his eyes tilted skyward when they met violets. "What do you want, kid?" he bellowed, clearly dismayed by the interruption and even more so by Lucian's more tangible gall.

"What do I want?" the young man said offensively, his tongue betraying not a single ounce of doubt, the hand stapled to the Officer's shoulder firm, friendly, and thoroughly impudent.

"The wild Pokémon took off that way!" He pointed in the opposite direction.

The Officer's lips slumped, as did his mustache. "Folks said they saw it go this way?"

Lucian shook his head emphatically. "Weird blue hair. Giant orange eyeballs. A Shiny Gardevoir, I saw her. Trust me sir, she's heading towards the front of the station. If you don't set up a perimeter at the top of the escalators she's gonna get away!"

The Officer's podgy body straightened, as did his lips and mustache. "Thanks kid," he said through a curt nod. "Come on Manny!" The two of them rumbled past.

"282 is heading towards the front of the station!" the Officer roared into his radio. "Set up a perimeter at the top of the escalators. We can't let it get away!"

Lucian grinned.  _Dumbass_.

The purple-haired young man and his Ninetails watched the policeman depart before the latter took off again. Nine swirls dancing behind him, Alabaster darted to the very end of the platform and turned ninety degrees to the right where his muzzle pointed at the naked railway as well as the area behind one of the columns. As Lucian caught up, his pace slowed as the anxious drummer inside his chest doubled its beat. Was this really happening? Was Desiree going to be right there?

Alabaster was sitting on his haunches facing the left of the pillar. Lucian kept right.

He stopped. In between the two of them was a svelte figure wearing a wispy white gown and a red hat. The creature wasn't facing him, but the hat was. She had it on backwards. It was a hat he recognized, the iconic cap his father always wore. Beneath that red cap were two throngs of jagged blue hair which curled away from him. Pointing in his direction were six blunt spikes of varying lengths, like horns.

" _Long time no see_ , Desiree," the old fox whispered. Tails swaying behind him, he bowed deeply.

" _Alabaster_!  _I knew that was you!_ " The Shiny Gardevoir's Psychic voice was low, tough, and definitively feminine. " _Where's everyone else_?" she asked.

" _Look behind you_."

Suspended in the air, the Shiny Gardevoir slowly wound around.

To the left and right of the triangular tuft of hair dipping down the middle of her face were two big, bright orange eyes. Below the tip of her bangs a small mouth dropped and hung wide open. Below her mouth she had a labret piercing; the silver stud bordered the center of her lower lip.

Violet eyes traveled down.

The fin jutting from the middle of her partially covered bosom matched her eyes. Speaking of  _her bosoms_ , they were exceptionally curvy and bodacious for a Gardevoir. Beginning just below her slim waist, silvery cloth draped her lower extremities. Although it was unhemmed, the fabric of her gown looked worn and frayed. Long, slender legs were on display between several deep, revealing slits.

Quite suddenly Lucian became very conscious and enthralled by the womanly figure standing there in front of him. When that happened, his cheeks burned. His sweltering cheeks created a kind of domino effect. Cheeks as pale as snow shined bright red too.

And what happened after that just kind of happened. He embraced her.

As his long arms engulfed her narrow shoulders, one of his hands slipped down her back. Not too far down, it wrapped firmly around her waist, tight but not too tight. One arm fastened to both shoulders and the other secured around her slender waist, he scooped her up into the air and twirled her around not once but twice, the split folds of her gown flowing around them. The Shiny Gardevoir felt light as a feather.

"Desiree!" he heard himself practically roar in excitement.

At first she just melted in his grasp, arms parallel to her body, her abdomen against his, almost motionless like a doll. Her fin was pointy but not at all sharp. Malleable and sensitive, it vibrated against his diaphragm like a Holo Caster receiving an urgent call.

It took him several seconds to notice that the rest of her body was also shaking, not uncontrollably but the shivering worried him all the same. Was she cold?

Suddenly, legs and feet starting kicking out under him and the body pressed against his began to squirm.

" _Put me down_!"

Lucian did as she requested immediately. Gently, hastily, he returned her to the ground. Both of her small feet instantly sprang off the flat surface like it was a trampoline where they hovered languidly a few inches above.

Blushing from a multitude of emotions, elation, embarrassment, a tinge of regret for coming on so strong, Lucian's eyes felt soggy and his throat raw as he said through a sheepish and slightly somber grin, "Don't you remember me? Desiree, it's me…Lucian…" He tugged with hard desperation at locks of his long hair, as if perhaps she hadn't notice its eccentric hue.

The Gardevoir's listless arms finally moved. Crossing them and pouting she deadpanned telepathically, " _No shit Sherlock, I remember you. Purple hair, violet eyes, how could I forget_?"

Lucian felt his face break into a grin. "Exactly," he spluttered. There was so much more he wanted to say but he hadn't a clue where to start. Instead, he just kept grinning.

Her pout twisted into a brooding scowl. " _Why are you looking at me like that_?"

His grin persisted as his tongue staggered. "Sorry," he breathed aloud, "I'm just so happy to see you again…I've imagined this moment a thousand times over. A thousand times at the least…" Finally, his grin faltered. Starring up at him, her pasty lips parted and orange eyes twinkling, he realized that her ashen face was a frightened one. Very slowly, the Gardevoir drifted away from the young man and posted up behind nine swaying swirls.

Bad idea. When she moved from behind the pillar, she placed herself in the open. What followed wasn't good. Increased shouting and yelling. Worse than the amplified noise was what he saw. Beyond the hollow passageway the clustered crowd of confusion had dwindled to a certain degree, but the Magnet Train was still sitting there on the rail, like a roller coaster closed down for maintenance.

Sprinkled inside the crowd were no less than a dozen men and women in blue uniform. The law had arrived. Most of the personnel were ladies in blue, Officer Jenny's who faintly reminded Lucian of Albina. Each one had a Growlithe in tow.

Whatever Desiree had to do to defend her freedom, she spurred enough alarm that the train had been shut down and an entire squadron of peacemakers had been dispatched to restore order.

 _Some perimeter_ , Lucian thought. Apparently the best defense was a blitzkrieg offense.

"There it is!" one of the Jenny's exclaimed, her voice thrown in their direction.

"That's it alright," another said with clear surprise. "Number 282. Shiny."

"Who's that over there with it?"

"Red suit, purple hair, he looks like a damned fashion model on a runway."

"Or a Trainer. I think that's a Ninetails there with him."

"Be careful whoever you are! That Gardevoir's dangerous!"

When the Ninetails whispered, there was a faint sense of urgency in his voice. "The two of you will have to catch up later. These human authorities are intent on capturing you, young Gardevoir."

Desiree's reaction was instant. She flung her frame back behind the pillar and clenched her fists.

It was too late to hide now. Law enforcement was on the way. Not just one or two. The entire battalion was marching down the corridor in rows of three or four, a tight fit as they brushed past the array of pillars.

" _You have history with this human_ ," the Ninetails whispered as he rather calmly licked one of his paws. " _Your time with him was brief. Lucian is an acquaintance for you, Desiree, as he is for me. I'm not asking you to trust him. I'm asking you to trust my judgment. What you must do now for you, for us, is going to be painful_." His snout turned. " _Lucian_ ," he said, meeting the young man's pained though steady gaze. " _I trust you're running with me on this_?"

As unfortunate as it was, the two of them were on the same page. The Police's mission was to remove the threat from the Magnet Train Station. That threat was a wild and though he knew otherwise, dangerous Pokémon. They intended to capture that wild Pokémon.

The only way to save Desiree from that fate was to capture her himself.

Slipping a hand through his pocket, he yanked out a Pokéball.

" _Oh hell no_!" Desiree's voice echoed along the subway walls.

The Ninetails growled.

Both bipedal creatures next to him to recoiled. " _The choice is yours_ ," Alabaster said, his voice hauntingly mellow. " _Allow this human to transport you to safety or spurn the two of us and force him and me to find and rescue you from their captivity. Where these authorities might take you I cannot know, but you will be doing all of us a favor if you relinquish your sentiments on this matter and trust my judgment_."

Desiree's expression remained defiant as she melted all the way to the ground, her body, hands, arms, spine, and ass sliding slowly down the concrete. Orange eyes never left Lucian's. " _Goddammit_ ," she whispered, ostensibly giving her consent.

" _Good_ ," the Ninetails answered, his muzzle nodding. " _We can squabble about this among other things later. In fact, I'm looking forward to it_."

Without another moment's hesitation, Lucian pointed the Pokéball at the Gardevoir scrunched there on the turf, her hands and arms folded over the outline of the spindly legs underneath her gown. Orange eyes, which had been transfixed on violets, fell at last.

Lucian was going to catch her. He had to. But he didn't want to chuck the device at her.

He dropped down to both knees. When he did, timid orange eyes arose.

"Sucks it has to be like this," Lucian breathed hurriedly as she met his gaze. He held the Pokéball over the woman's lap, above the blue hands folded over her gown and waited. "I know you don't trust me yet," he said. "You have no reason to, and you shouldn't, but I want you to know something. Through thick and thin, during good times and bad, whatever happens, I'm not going to let you down–"

"– _Make haste Lucian_ –"

Desiree's expression was bland as her fists unfolded, blue hands blossoming like a flower. Lucian planted the device in them and gently folded her small, limp fingers over the circular structure. Holding her grasp within his much broader hands, his vision never folded from her doleful face. A drop of blue slid down her snow white cheek.

As law enforcement swarmed, men and women shouting, boots stampeding, Growlithe's barking, a flash of white light proliferated at the corridor's end.

The Police didn't find a Shiny Gardevoir. At the edge of the platform just a Ninetails sitting next to a Trainer holding a stock-still pink Pokéball with a heart painted on top. A purple knapsack lying on the ground was the only sign that someone else had been there.

Pokéballs ate Pokémon as well as clothes, apparel they might be wearing but not bags with multiple items stored inside. The Trainer stuffed the Love Ball in his pocket. After that, he unzipped his backpack and placed Desiree's belongings safely within one of the compartments.

"Son of a bitch!"

The portly Officer with a neatly trimmed mustache pushed to the front of the blue swarm. He looked a mixture of indignant and impressed. "You told me it went that way," he growled. He motioned with his mustache in the opposition direction.

Lucian arose. At 6'3" his height surpassed every single one of his peers. "Whoops," he mumbled dryly.

The man frowned, but it almost instantly morphed into a friendly smile. "Guess I can't fault you for wanting to catch it yourself. A Shiny Gardevoir!" He chuckled. "All yours now, but just be careful with that one, kid. Some wild Pokémon are wilder than others."

At the mustache's side was his Manectric whose severe stance seemed to be aimed at the Ninetails. Alabaster responded by yawning with wide indifference.

Patting his Pokémon's spikey mane the talking mustache imparted a few more words of wisdom. "If I were you, I'd leave that one in its Pokéball for at least a week," he said, referring to the captured Gardevoir. "Don't give it one iota of attention. Don't even consider it."

One of the Officer Jenny's giggled. "I think this Trainer knows what he's doing Cole," she said. "He caught it and he's got a Ninetails to boot."

Cole brushed her off. "Just making sure," the mustache muttered before giving Lucian's shoulder a few friendly pats. The stern gaze of the young man scraped that hand clean off. Only the Officer's reckless appetite for imparting advice compelled him to continue. "After a week or two," he said, "implement a punishment-reward system." His hand rediscovered a tall yellow mane, and when it did reassurance filtered through his lungs. "That's how I taught Manny his manners. Isn't that right boy?"

The Manetric barked in approbation.

"Just made sure it knows who's in charge," Cole explained.

Lucian almost stopped himself from speaking his mind. Almost. He should have just said 'Thank you' and left it at that, but with furrowed eyes he said instead, "First of all, the  _it_  you're referring to is a  _she_. Second, she has a name. Her name is Desiree. And third, your crude technique is based around a little theory called operant conditioning. Reinforce this, punish that. Works pretty well if you want a hatchling Pokémon to blindly follow your every command."

" _Or a human_."

Heads jerked down to the nine swirls. "Good point," Lucian said agreeably before stroking the golden-white Pokémon' furry crest. Alabaster was inspecting the horde of young Growlithe's, who looked back at the Ninetails with keen interest.

Then their gaze met Lucian's. The Dark Dreamer held his gaze.

Through their windows he saw their Dark Flames. Lives made to fulfill one role, a single purpose distinguished even before conception. Each had participated in numerous Police Battles, though their experiences varied to some degree. Most were pups, the youngest not even a year old.

Inside their eyes the Dark Dreamer sensed not misery and pain but hope and yearning for something more, less time Battling and working and more time playing and making friends.

Violet eyes shifted to Cole's companion. Manny was eight years of age. He had been a Police Pokémon his whole life, a Detector or as Cole liked to tease a "Sniffer."

Lucian touched his Flame as well. More than anything, Manny the Manectric wanted to be a hero. He was a hero. During his time as a Police Pokémon Manny had thwarted various drug traffickers trying to use the metro as transportation.

Years of searching for illegal drugs, inhaling various chemicals without restraint had taken its toll on the Pokémon's health, however. At only eight, Manny's life was nearing its end. A recent Pokémon Center visit had shown that he had developed Lymphoma. The malignant cancer was nonoperational and terminal. Manny had one more year at best.

Returning his watering eyes to Cole, Lucian stated sadly, "These canines were all bred in captivity, their lives preordained, their purposes limited, and their health…sorely overlooked. Other Pokémon, wild Pokémon as we label them, we capture them and expect them to adapt to the lifestyle we want. It's reductionist at worst and lazy at best. Pokémon aren't meant to be minced down into myopic shells. They have needs and wants just like you and me. Catching them shouldn't curb their appetites. If anything, if we have the gall to strip them of their independence and use them to fulfill our dreams the least we can do is help them achieve theirs."

Cole gave his Police peers several dumbfounded glances. "What exactly you trying to say kid?" he asked sarcastically. "That Beedrill have dreams just like you and me?"

"Beedrill," Lucian echoed as he shook his head. "I see where you're going. Alright, it's true, some Pokémon are more intelligent than others. Certainly some aren't quite as intellectually capable as you and me. The average I.Q. of a Beedrill is a measly ten. Compare that to a human, where the average is measured between a generous ninety and 1-o-9 and at a glance yeah, the difference is profound. About a ten to one ratio. But did you know the average I.Q. of an Alakazam is five-thousand?"

Below a patch of hair Cole's mouth hung open. "I…duh…uhhh…"

"Bug Pokémon may not be the brightest of types, I'll give you that," Lucian continued. "But dreams are the product of sentience, not intelligence. Humans, Pokémon, we have far more in common than most are led to believe. All Pokémon are sentient beings. All live life subjectively. They dream. They make decisions. And they can shed tears when they are happy or sad. Sound familiar? We do the exact same thing. Now, if you're interested in highlighting key differences between man and Beedrill I think I can help. Unlike most of us human beings, Beedrill are fiercely loyal creatures. Scores risk life and limb to protect Weedle and Kakuna, members of their colony they've probably never even met. Most live short lives due to self-sacrifice. Try finding a human willing to do throw life away for a complete stranger. You should be so lucky."

Violet eyes skipped around, individually meeting the Police Pokémon one by one, all of whom stared back at the Dark Dreamer almost in a trance, as if they could sense there was something unusual about him. Even Manny, whose stance had been staunchly severe, cocked his spikey head.

"Growlithe and Manectric," Lucian said, "are lauded to the skies for being loyal, protective, and relatively easy to train. These little guys and gals are well-trained, of that I have no doubt. With a little extra patience I believe a Beedrill could be every bit as adept at helping you do your job as these canines are. Keep this in mind, though. While these Pokémon are here to help you do your job, it's your job to help them fulfill their dreams. If you truly don't think they have dreams, maybe you should start paying attention."

Clearly puzzled, Cole's hands tunneled in his pockets. "What are you some kind of Pokémon guru?" he muttered uncomfortably.

"Nah, but I have been studying Pokémon my whole life. I just started training them yesterday though…" Lucian managed a wry grin before nodding curtly. "Good day Officer." He glanced around. "Officers," he said, nodding again.

" _You are young, human,"_ the Ninetails whispered as the two of them scurried along the tubular corridor. " _Young and inexperienced_.  _But you if truly believe what you preach then you are wise beyond your years. There is a rich tapestry of life here on this Earth. Such differences demand balance and forbearance. You, however, touch upon the similarities between our sentient species. Dreams, choices, even tears, things some humans forget they share with Pokémon. The most successful Trainers discover these resemblances but also appreciate the disparity. To them, the greatest reward in raising a Pokémon is the bond between an equal yet diverse individual. Such Trainers exert more reward than sanction, more patience than expedition, and more warmth than violence. Battles yield strength and endurance, making Pokémon powerful, but such victories do not foster trust between Pokémon and Trainer. Now, human, tell me, do you yet know what truly separates man from Pokémon?_

Lucian:  _What you mentioned last night. Our hands, fingers, thumbs_ …?

Alabaster:  _That is chunk of it. Your physiology allows you to shape the world to your liking, fashion tools to exert greater control, extend your reach. But genetics have given your kind more than the means with which to whittle. The want, the need, the ambition to expand and assert greater control is manifest in your minds and souls. When humans capture Pokémon, most see us as an extension of their ambition rather than something else, someone separate. These humans pluck us from our lives and place us inside their own, training us, expecting us to adjust, to change, to fit their narrative._

Lucian:  _So in the scheme of things, we're all a bunch of ambitious assholes_ …?

Alabaster:  _Asshole…ah, a derogatory term. No, you are not. Ambition is the legacy of your kind. Towns and cities, the Magnet Train, Pokémon Battles and Competitions, Pokéballs, all are products of your unequivocal ambition. Forever your kind has espoused it, cultivated it, and now I believe you are very close to perfecting it. In truth such zeal is not an intrinsically perverse quality. Ambition has done much good in this world. Pokémon Centers, hospitals, Potions, agriculture, electricity, engineering, mathematics…the innovations of human magic._

Lucian: Science.

Alabaster:  _Yes_.  _Ambition is the vanguard of your science. Now, you mentioned I.Q. and emphasized that there are Pokémon on an intellectual plane which exceeds that of humans. Likewise, your bodies are weak and frail, nearly all Pokémon are either physically superior or command inborn magic most of your kind does not. So remind me, why do you humans sit upon the throne?_

Lucian:  _Ambition_.

Alabaster:  _Precisely, Lucian_.

Feeling uncomfortable by this conversation, the young man loosened a laugh. " _An Alakazam's average I.Q. really is five-thousand._   _Imagine if one of them had as much ambition as, I dunno someone like Ghetsis of Team Plasma_.

Alabaster:  _Many intelligent Pokémon possess ambition. Ambition that dare I say, mirrors that of humanity. I fear your kind has set a dangerous precedent, my friend. But enough on this matter. I believe you have something more pertinent to ponder. Someone._

As they started up the escalator, Lucian suddenly broke into a sprint, vaulting up the stairs two and sometimes three at a time.

Desiree was sitting all alone inside a Pokéball. The sooner they exited the station, the sooner he could release her from a cage.


	14. A Precarious Place

Lucian stayed true to his word. As soon as they made it outside the Magnet Train Station he released Desiree from her Pokéball.

He could tell the Shiny Gardevoir was relieved to be free. When she asked for her belongs back, he promptly gave them to her. The purple knapsack hung tightly at her back, thin rope twined around narrow blue shoulders. An iconic red cap still sat upon her head of blue hair in reverse style.

Relief quickly transformed into distress. Once she was out and about, the stares and gasps commenced. Words were thrown their way. At her and at him too, as her being with him camouflaged her as belonging to him.

"Show off," someone spat in passing, their tone distasteful.

"Cute guy, isn't he?" another mentioned a bit later.

"Posh though," her friend said loud and clear. "I mean do you really have to flaunt your gorgeous Shiny Gardevoir?"

Lucian didn't focus too much on the chatter pertaining to him. They were overshadowed by those tossed around about her. Compliments largely, and as far as he could tell most of them were well-intentioned.

"Look at those two. A debonair gentleman with his Shiny Gardevoir."

"An absolutely stunning sight indeed," another corresponded.

There was a flash of white light. Somebody took their picture.

"Hot damn," a man wearing shorts but no shirt cried as they strolled past. "Looka the tight ass on that thang!"

"Hey there Miss Shiny Gardevoir?" his chum said, beady eyes looking her over top to bottom. "How you doing? You got a leash?" The two inappropriate men began prowling her.

Desiree, who Lucian noticed had been slowly drifting steadily away from him suddenly sprung to his ribcage like a magnet.

Instinctively placing a protective arm around her shoulders, he said to the two assholes, "She's with me. Fuck off."

"What you say to me pretty boy?"

With the Gardevoir safely in his grasp, the Trainer came to a halt. Perhaps his posture had been slouched, for when he straightened to his full height their confrontational demeanor dented.

"You need hearing aids fuck nugget? I said fuck off!"

A menacing snarl from Alabaster convinced them to do more than back down. The two assholes actually apologized before retreating.

Lucian was quite pleased with this outcome. However, with the lowlifes gone Desiree squirmed out of his protective clasp and began to gradually drift away once again, a part of his party, with him but at the same time, not. Not that she really needed protecting, as Albina said the girl could take care of herself, but while the Ninetails stuck staunchly behind the Gardevoir seemed reluctant to remain close. She looked so alone floating way over there; her hands holding elbows, head hung low, eyes pointed down. Lucian knew what it was like to be alone. But he didn't need to be lonely anymore and neither did she.

As they neared the hotel, he decided to be brave and break the silence with telepathy.

" _So, how do you two know each other_?" he queried innocuously, referring to the Ninetails and the Gardevoir.

Alabaster had probably been reluctant to converse because he wanted the two of them to intermingle. When Desiree didn't answer, the hesitancy in the Ninetails'  _whisper_  was palpable. " _Albina introduced me to this lovely young Gardevoir oh, I'd say about eight months ago_."

" _Nice to see you again, Alabaster_ ," the Gardevoir deadpanned. Yay, at least she was speaking. Lucian actually had to resist jumping for joy.

" _Likewise, Desiree_ ," the Ninetails whispered. " _I look forward to working with you, as does this warm human_."

After that, Desiree grew utterly silent until they reached the lofty hotel building. When the three of them stepped into the elevator she quietly asked, " _What floor_?"

"Thirty-eight," he articulated. As she mashed the button, he wondered if she could have simply plucked that information from his brain. During their walk to the hotel, it crossed his mind that perhaps the Gardevoir was being a conversational recluse because she was preoccupied harvesting his secrets. Was she not bending her Light into his? Not like he had much to hide, a few embarrassing secrets, shameful regrets, and weird butterflies that had migrated inside his stomach. Maybe the Ninetails was right. Maybe his Dark could swallow the Light up.

Whatever the case, if she asked, he would tell her most of anything she wanted to know about him. Nonetheless, he would appreciate it if the Psychic Pokémon didn't invade his mind. That same courtesy he had already decided to give to her.

As the elevator ascended, Lucian could feel the Gardevoir's stare. Of course that was entirely because he was staring right back at her.

Her orange eyes looked big and bleak as she spoke. " _So, what's up with the pink_?"

It took him a moment to realize she was referring to her Pokéball. The Love Ball with a heart painted on top. Cheeks burning beet red, he managed, "It's not that cryptic, I swear. I thought you might prefer pink…"

Big eyes narrowed. " _Because I'm a girl_?"

Lucian threw on mischievous look. "If I said yes, would that be sexist?"

Pouting, she muttered, her telepathic voice low, almost inaudible, " _I would prefer not having a cage_."

Her Trainer nodded eagerly as he spoke aloud. "Desiree, I know full well you don't like Pokéballs–"

"– _I hate them_."

Biting his tongue, he slumped against the side of the elevator. A hand with a mind of its own dipped down where it began matting silky fur. Fingers massaging absentmindedly, he decided to provide a gentle reminder to the Gardevoir. "I feel the exact same way about them. I really do. Unfortunately, we might encounter unique circumstances like that last one, where it's in everyone's best interest to keep you somewhere safe."

She didn't look convinced.

"I promise I'll never put you inside without your permission," he tried to say assuredly. "I'll never throw away the key. As soon as you want out you're coming out. I cross my heart." With a shaky finger, he crossed his heart.

" _This human appreciates our aversion for cages_ ," a small voice echoed as the Ninetails came to a timely rescue. " _Know this as well. I have my own Pokéball which Lucian has been entrusted, and Albina insisted that you also have one just in case. Concerning certain circumstances, this is not unreasonable. Now, correct me if I'm wrong human, but I do believe you requested the pink variant because it lent greater fashion?_ "

Lucian's cheeks still burned red as he nodded. "Yup," he whimpered. "That's what I said."

His eyes never left Desiree's. Between the orange, black pupils shifted all around the cramped boxy elevator as if they were searching for something unseen.

" _Where is my sister_?" the Gardevoir asked quietly.

Lucian frowned. "She didn't tell you?"

The Gardevoir shook her head.

"Albina left this morning. I guess you could say it's just going to be the three of us for now." When he said that, he realized he was perfectly fine with it being just the three of them. Blushing evermore, he threw on a grin. His best and a genuine one at that. Without stuttering, he articulated clearly, truthfully, emotionally, "Desiree, I've missed you."

The Gardevoir turned away and said nothing.

As the elevator elevated so did Lucian's anxiety.  _Is she mad at me_?  _Does she…blame me_?

* * *

When Lucian unlocked the door to their room, Desiree made sure she was the first to slip through the crevice. Without one word, she b-lined the bathroom, shut the door, and started the shower.

There, she removed her gown and cropped bodice.

Cold water spewed from the metal head. Completely nude, the pale female creature waited until the stream was tepid before climbing in. The muscles in her arms and legs were tense, eyes fought back tears, but she waited.

Facing the shower head, the waterfall soused her hair and face, washing away tears which now refused to cease falling. Not that she tried to stop them. Crying in the shower felt better than crying outside of it.

Like a runny blanket, warm water seeped down the front of her body, caressing her naked skin, soothing the numbness inside and dispelling a portion of the ache within her fin. Her blood began boiling, the veins in her arms swelling. Knots raked inside her chest. Lost in silly thoughts, tears still flowing, eyes closed, she felt around, fingers searching for the cake of soap.

Standing there in the shower stall, all she wished for besides warmth was wanton pleasure.

Soon, the tears stopped, replaced by soft gasps of pleasure.

Lathering foamy soap, she pretended that her touch was foreign. Someone else's. Lucian's. He was in the shower behind her, dragging the soap sensually across her belly before dropping it carelessly. Eager fingers ran north, venturing over rigid ribs before exploring softer curves. Hard hands gripped as did stiff fingers before dipping down the gap between her breasts and finding her already throbbing fin. Her pulse quickened, her breathing heightened, her sensitive fin quickly became raw and swollen. Finally, her other hand crept south where two fingers began to work ravenously between her legs.

Releasing muted moans, she smiled, natural and unnoticed as she reached orgasm.

_Desiree, I've missed you_.

That's what he said. Oh how she wished he would ravish her. He was in a man's body now, handsome, tall, so goddamn tall and probably well-endowed.

Something hard and cold pressed against her bared back. She squealed pitifully, her eyes fluttering open.

Then she grunted.

She had backed into the wall. No one was there behind her. Certainly not Lucian, though he was in the adjacent room.

_I can't believe it_ , she thought.  _I can't believe it's really him_.

Reality sunk its teeth in, purging the afterglow of the warm moment. She had to use him, the man she occasionally fantasized about romantically. The human with purple hair used to be a mocking memory, yet one she clung to obsessively. Stirring granted her sleep with dreams. Seeing him again, being with him, it felt like one of those dreams. He rescued her, put his arm around her, he hugged her. Clearly he was happy to see her.

For a few seconds she entertained the idea that those knots, the tingly feeling inside her chest was something similar to that which he so patently felt.

Happy. At least she liked to think so.

Life with him would have been different. They would have lived together, grown up together. She would actually have had a friend, someone to talk to, confide in, to cheer her up, a warm blanket. Her warm blanket.

Orange eyes glanced down and noticed the track marks on her inner arms. Black spots were sprinkled all over. Desiree knew she would have to be mindful of them and hide them.

With Lucian as her Trainer, life would definitely have been different.

Pathetic! That didn't matter now. The past was the past. She couldn't let lingering emotions derail or even curtail her current obligations. Moving forward, she had to figure out how best to proceed.

Rotating the shower faucet to the left, the torrent turned ice cold, numbing her body and curating her thoughts. Responsibility replaced desire. Reality slayed fantasy.

More egregious than his being a face she recognized, a haunting one she could never forget was the fact that somehow Lucian's mind was dimmer than that of most humans. Not pitch black like her Dark Sister, but terrifyingly close. Even the thoughts bubbling on the surface were strenuous to glimpse, his mind like a murky pond, dark shapes dwelling underneath, obscured and unknown and thus very frightening things. Convictions and intentions were shielded by shadow. The entire walk to the hotel she lived next to the human's mind, yet searching through his dim window she pilfered absolutely nothing. How could that be?

She had to get inside Lucian's head. How could she manipulate him if she couldn't steal his innermost secrets? What did he want and what weaknesses could she exploit? One way or another, she had to find that out.

Lucian was Sabrina's son. He no doubt inherited that bitch's Psychic abilities. He could engage others in telepathic conversation, shining his Light, a not so very shocking revelation. Desiree knew he might have some level of ESP, though he was much stronger than she anticipated. Could he also bend the Light? If he had tried to do that to her, she would have known, but he never did. Yes, he was a bender, she was sure of it. Perhaps powerful enough to block her mental intrusion, but that was doubtful. Master Malamar was a Psychic who enjoyed absolute cerebral solitude, but that was only because his consummate mind was barred by Black Light.

Yet, there was a strange aura radiating from the Psychic human, a shadow that reminded her of Albina. When her Dark Sister entered the Gardevoir's thoughts, she shuddered. Or maybe that was merely because of the frigid water clawing at her bare back.

Only when Desiree vamoosed to the bathroom did Lucian realize his brain was ablaze. One hand untied the laces to his shoes while the other matted his temple. A vein underneath his palm was throbbing.

Gross.

The pain, the knowledge, this was what he was so afraid of, the physical agony as well as the burden of knowing.

Manny the Manectric was going to die soon. Cancer caused by his frequent, unchecked inhaling of dangerous chemicals, his duty as a Police Detector, was going to kill him before he reached the age of ten.

Then there was Alabaster the Ninetails. Something terrible haunted him. Many things.

As for Desiree, Lucian came to understand that her pain, whatever that was, had brewed the current fire blazing behind his eyes.

After taking off his boots and sunglasses, he removed his blazer as well. He became very much aware of his sweating profusely underneath his clothes.

Also gross.

He plopped down on the bed, sitting upright, his butt cheeks on the edge and naked feet spread out on the furry carpet as he waited and listened, waiting for the pain behind his eyes to fade but more than that, waiting for Desiree to finish in the shower.

He didn't like the pain, he wasn't a masochist, but he could stand it. He had to. He wanted to.

The sound of running water seemed to last forever.

During that time, a barefoot Lucian hurriedly ventured outside the room. The Gardevoir had a rough day getting here and it was evident to him that she needed cheering up. Scrambling feet took him to a set of vending machines. Poké Puffs for Alabaster and another box for Desiree. Not knowing if the Gardevoir might like something else, he went ahead and got a few more treats.

Or several.

Upon returning, his ears were greeted by the relentless sound of a waterfall. He made a mental note that Desiree enjoyed long showers, something they had in common actually.

"Guessssss-whaaaat-I-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave?" Lucian sang as he hid the cluster of items behind his back.

The old fox was lying at the foot of the bed, red eyes wide open as he tilted his muzzled face. "Nourishment," Alabaster answered dryly.

"You can smell it," Lucian said, pouting while feigning dejection at the dismantling of his surprise.

"Smell it. See it. You're peculiar human hands are doing a poor job of concealing those Poké Puffs. Bestow them upon me Lucian. Do it now!"

As the elfin Ninetails enjoyed the snack, the two of them engaged in conversation. A didactic discussion eventually devolved into playful banter before restoring back into something of pedagogic value.

Rain was relatively harmless to Ninetails. Bathing on the other hand did prove uncomfortable, though like humans Alabaster considered personal hygiene a basic necessity. Hotter water was more assuaging. Boiling water was much preferred, like fire disguised as water. According to the Ninetails, Water wasn't an intrinsically damaging element to Fire types. Hydration was essential for all creatures, Fire type Pokémon included, although their bodily need for water proved far less frequent than all other forms of life.

Water used as weapons was a different matter entirely. Drops of water wouldn't douse most fires, but a jet stream shot from the cannon of a Blastoise would injure any Pokémon.

"It just sucks more ass if you're a Ground, Rock, or Fire type," Lucian pointed out, his telepathic voice nothing short of solemn.

"Sucks more ass?" the Ninetails echoed. "I am not familiar with that. Is that a human adage? Sucks more ass?"

Lucian had to blow his cheeks up like a Quilfish to resist cracking up. "You're always sharing your wisdom old man," he mentioned all the while holding in his laughter. "This charlatan is just trying to give something back. Please, you don't have to thank me."

"Tell me more about this expression, human. Sucks more ass. I find it…odd."

Many minutes after explaining the phrase and thereby clarifying the crudity, it occurred to Lucian rather abruptly that he needed to pee. Badly. He made a mental note of that fact, that his kidneys were about to explode. Within thirty seconds, he wanted that mental note to go away.

The shower water was still running.

Rapping lightly on the door, he called out with a calm desperation, "Salutations Desiree! Sorry to bother you but…are you almost done in there? I really need to go on a quick date with the toilet."

No answer.

"No rush," he said, elevating his voice slightly. "Just about to piss my favorite pants. Please, take your time."

"Almost done," he heard inside his head. That telepathic tone was so bland. Her voice was even more difficult to evaluate than Albina's.

"Awesome," he called as he jogged in place. "Like I said, take your time. Hmm…" The humiliating image of a puddle forming around his feet pervaded his mind. The Gardevoir would be shocked and disgusted. Ninetails would never let him live it down. "…Erm, any chance you could give me a timetable? Thirty seconds, five minutes, an hour?"

"Be out in a sec."

"Okay, one second! I like the sound of that!"

Twenty minutes passed by before the shower water stopped. Another eleven minutes until finally the door opened.

Lucian had resorted to doing jumping jacks. As soon as the door began to creak, he sprinted towards it.

Suddenly, standing there inside the rectangular frame was a Shiny Gardevoir.

The red cap was gone, replaced by a yellow towel that was wrapped around her head, engulfing her topmost spikes and most of her hair except for the blue curls sinking just below her jaw and the triangular emo bangs separating her two eyes. Another towel of a matching yellow shade was draped around her slim figure. More conspicuous than the two mounds prominent on her chest was her fin protruding between and below them. The flimsy towel did leave much to his male imagination, though the same could not be said for her willowy legs which were on almost full display. Yellow cloth fell around them, but not too far down those two long, slender legs pressed closely together and pale as snow.

It took Lucian a moment to realize she wasn't wearing her gown.

" _Why are you looking at me like that_?"

She might as well have kicked him in the stomach. "I um, uh…" Cheeks sweltering, he hoped his lungs might distract her from that fact. "You know when I was younger, up until a few years after meeting you actually…I assumed the Gardevoir gown was an organic cloth. Like flaky skin with nerve endings, veins, sweat glands…"

Desiree glided past him as she answered. "Oh, so you thought humans were the only ones who wore clothes?" Her usually neutral voice this time oozed distaste.

"Yikes!" Lucian scratched his head. "My apologies if that was offensive. I didn't mean to insinuate that I thought – or think –  _we_  are more civilized than the  _Galldevoir_. I just genuinely thought the shame regarding the naked body was a human thing."

Bypassing the television she took a seat at the small square table. "Nope, my people are a lot like yours," she said simply as she made herself comfortable. "Gallade wear pants and Gardevoir traditionally wear gowns."

"A bit gender normative," Lucian said pulling up a chair beside her, "but to be honest I like women who wear dresses."

Out of nowhere Desiree glanced up at him and smiled. It was the first time he had ever seen her usually horizontal lips twist up. It happened so fast, a flash of pearls which matched her pale skin, a tiny smile but lips curling enough to press her rosy cheeks up so that positive emotion reached her eyes, the area around them crinkling at the corners as the orange pools gleamed.

In that moment Lucian realized all he would ever really want, would ever truly need was to provoke that smile.

" _Thanks_ ," the Gardevoir chirped telepathically before demurring, orange eyes darting away as pallid lips creased.

"For what?" he spilled out of his mouth. He actually hadn't a clue what elicited that kind of response but he hoped to find out.

"Um,  _for the compliment_ ," she replied before peeling open her knapsack and digging through the gap.

"You're most welcome!" he exclaimed, though still hopelessly in the dark.

What happened next was nothing short of egregious. A cigarette was lodged between two blue fingers. Orange eyes matched a flicker of fire. Lighting that cigarette, the Gardevoir began to recklessly inhale thousands of harmful chemicals. As a Fairy type Pokémon poisonous tobacco was far worse for her than it was for humans, not to mention that a Gardevoir's throat and lungs were far more fragile.

"You smoke?" Lucian gasped before a thick cloud of smoke enveloped his senses.

"Yup," she said nonchalantly as he swiped away at the smoke with a frenzied hand.

"Desiree–" He let loose a duo of coughs as he continued sweeping, "–you did that on purpose!"

Another tiny smirk spread over her pale face. Regrettably, the smog interfered with his ability to enjoy it. Once it cleared, that smile was long gone.

Clearing his throat, Lucian tried to sound serious. By sounding it, he also decided to directly employ the use of the word, thereby augmenting the seriousness. "In all seriousness Desiree, I don't think you're supposed to smoke in here. Pretty sure it's against the rules."

She took a lengthy drag. "Some rules are meant to be broken."

Breathing in second-hand smoke, Lucian felt a surge of disappointment. Not so much at her disregarding hotel policy. Moreover, he was in no way infatuated with the public institution nor did he hold qualms about bending a few rules. His sense of morality mattered to him, not society's. The disappointment was directed at her being a smoker, at deliberately and comprehensively damaging the temple that was her beautiful body. She really was beautiful. Lucian wasn't one to deny facts, particularly those he could examine with his own two eyes.

Manny crossed his thoughts. It was the Manectric's duty as a Police Detector to inhale dangerous chemicals, something which cost him years of his life. Desiree on the other hand was exposing her body to poison on purpose…At that moment, he wished he could detox both her body and mind.

"As for rules which must not be broken," Desiree said as she blew out another puff of smoke, at least this time away from his face, "I'm going to share them with you."

Swatting at the lingering black smog like it was a swarm of lotus, "Let me just make sure I understand," he uttered rapidly, "Some rules are meant to be broken but these are not amongst them?"

" _Yup_."

"Alright, lay them on me."

Removing the cigarette from her mouth, it sat in the crook of her fingers while her bony blue elbow rested on the table. "No Pokéballs," she deadpanned straight and firm. "I'm not going to be locked up again." She frowned. "Unless I give you the okay. Okay?"

Lucian nodded. "Fair enough. Is that it?"

She shook her head. " _Um, no. So. You're a Psychic like me_."

" _That I am_ ," he replied, switching to his telepathic voice for an added effect and truthfully, a bit of swaggering.

" _No peeking inside my head_ ," she pouted furiously, orange eyes looking daggers at him with suspicion.

" _Same with mine_ ," he said through a shrug, his telepathic tone firm though his expression remained benign. " _If you want to ask me something, anything, ask away. But no invading my mind either. Call it common courtesy_."

Leaning back in the chair her arm folded over her chest, just below the two round bumps and pointy fin. The other hand hurried to her mouth, returning the cigarette to a more preferred spot. She pulled in deeply, the tip glowing red as she crossed her near-naked legs. " _No interrupting me when I'm explaining the rules_ ," she said.

"I didn't mean to interfere I just–"

She blew a cloud of smoke in his face. " _I said_   _shut up_!"

Despite that being rather rude, he elected to keep his cool and take it as a joke. It was a joke, right? She was teasing, she had to be. Or not. Feigning amusement, he brushed away the smoke with one hand and with the other gave her a thumbs-up.

" _No touching my stuff_ ," she held up her purple knapsack so he could see it and rattled it around. " _No touching me. No judging me. No criticizing me. No bossing me around. No keeping things from me. No secrets. No doubting me. No hurting me. No impulsivity. Um, okay that's it for now I think. Okay_?"

Lucian gave her two thumbs-up.

" _Okay_?"

Lucian's upward thumbs jiggled playfully.

" _Promise me, moron. I wanna hear you say it_."

Lucian crossed his heart.

" _Say it out loud_?  _Please_?"

He shook his head.

She looked genuinely bemused, her already big eyes bulging. " _Why not_?" she asked at last.

A grin spread over Lucian's face. "You told this moron to shut up. I was just following your rules, unless that was one of those meant to be broken."

The cigarette nearly fell out of her mouth. " _Not funny_ ," she said, sounding unamused too.

With that, he decided to put the jokes on hold. Haphazardly, he reached over and stole her hand, the free one without the cigarette. That hand was smooth like a stone, cold like one too, blue skin stretching tightly over the bone. Yet, her bony hand, limp in both of his seemed so small, so soft, so fragile. As he looked deeply in her eyes despite his own burning, he told her a very straightforward truth.

"Desiree, I will never, ever hurt you. Albina told me…about Gray. Not everything, but she told me enough. I won't lay a finger on you if that's what you want. And emotionally, I will never bring you down. I'll only raise you up. Or try to." Her stoic face turned tentative, her mouth hanging open and orange pools teetering in their sockets. Any second her pupils were going to flee. Quickening his pace as he spoke, he managed to salvage the earnestness in his tone. "As a Pokémon I know you've got my back. Well, I want you to know that this human's got yours."

Suddenly, her hand began to squirm. Just like that, she yanked it away from his gentle enclosure. "I already told you not to touch me!" she spat inside his head. "That's touching."

Lucian gaped for several seconds before regaining a fraction of his composure. "Oh, right," he whispered aloud with more than just a tinge of dejection. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

She looked livid.

The situation needed defusing. Jokes commenced deployment.

Rubbing his hands together, "Now, it's my turn," he said. The young man's expression turned severe.

Desiree tilted her round Gardevoir head. " _Um, okay_ ," she said, still visibly annoyed as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. " _Your turn for what?_ "

"Rules!" he said with a shrug. "I've got a list that frankly, I must demand you adhere to. Alabaster has already signed the document with a paw print. I need your signature as well."

" _I could care less about your stupid rules_ ," she spat.

Excellent, she fell right into the tease trap. "Couldn't," Lucian corrected curtly.

" _What_?" she said, the frown adorning her face deepening.

"The expression," he shrugged. "You said you could care less, which implies that you do actually give a damn to some degree. You see Desiree, you admitted that your level of not giving a crap could in fact be lower, thereby also revealing that you do in fact care to some extent. People botch the expression all the time, so don't beat yourself up too much about it..."

For a split second, Lucian allowed his pokerfaced expression to radiate a sly grin.

Upon realizing his jest, a hushed string of adorable giggles escaped the Gardevoir's mouth. Orange eyes fled the scene right after, disappearing behind her triangular emo bangs. " _No correcting me_ ," she said at last.

"Another one of your rules reveals itself," he cried, positive that she knew he was teasing. "Is that all on your end or will there be more surprises?"

" _No, that's just all I can think of at the moment_ ," she said in a quiet way as if she was indeed contemplating more guidelines, that or suppressing mirth.

Lucian shrugged again. "Fair enough. As for me, honestly I've just got one rule. I don't need your signature, or Alabaster's for that matter though he did agree to follow it indefinitely."

" _Slander_ ," the old fox's tiny voice echoed. " _I did no such thing Desiree_."

Lucian's poker face now all but ruined, he allowed himself to smile. "My lonesome rule is simple and straightforward," he explained, and though he dropped the poker face the teasing solemnity in his voice remained. "Verbally assaulting the color purple is off limits. No exceptions. No making fun of my hair. Ever. Under any circumstances. Got it, Dezzy?"

" _Um, actually purple is my_ –" Timid orange eyes met his before demurring. Was she on the verge of making a nasty comment regarding his hair? Lucian hoped so. He wanted her to tease him back.

Instead, " _Didn't you have to pee_?"

Violet eyes widened. "Holy Miltank!" he shouted as he sprang to his feet. "I'll be back!"

" _Okay_ ," he heard her whisper as he bolted to the bathroom.

If that Gardevoir hadn't reminded him he was about to piss his pants, he probably would have.

* * *

Lucian possessed several quirks.

He was nice. Too goddamn nice. Probably fake nice.

"I got a few surprises for you Dez," he told her before placing several items on the small square table. Poke Puffs, chips, crackers, candy, and three different flavors of soda. There was a lot to choose from.

She didn't know what to say or do, but not so much because of the robust selection. It didn't happen very often, but whenever someone went out of their way to do something genuinely nice for her she instantly shriveled up and became very diffident, even more so than usual.

Taking notice of this, the provocateur said through a smile, "We'll eat a proper meal later tonight. We can order something up here to the room or go out somewhere, whatever you two Pokémon want to do."

_Stop being so goddamn nice_ , she shrieked inside her head. As the day progressed, something close to guilt began to build up inside her fin. Only by resenting him could she alleviate that…whatever exactly that was.

No remorse. He didn't deserve it…even though his heart was warm. So goddamn warm. No, he was a vile human, he had to be. Except she couldn't read his mind and verify that for sure. It was infuriating.

She directed that anger at his face. That mesmerizingly attractive face. Goddammit!

He was nosy. Too nosy. As if to compensate for agreeing not to read her mind, the Psychic human asked a lot of questions. They were incessant. At one point he dared ask what happened on the train ride from Johto to Saffron. When he acted concerned, she told him she didn't want his sympathy and left it at that.

He looked hurt when she said that. She tried not to care.

Later he wanted to know about life living as a Gardevoir in Goldenrod City. She remained aloof. He asked her about the hardships of being a free Pokémon. Verbal answers were given using as few words as possible. Eventually, she resorted to head gestures and shrugging shoulders.

Yet, he persisted.

She omitted the intricacies. She lied more than she told the truth. She wondered why he cared. If he actually cared. Whenever she tried to look through his window to find the truth, the lights were turned off. There were silhouettes of things, various things, but beneath that purple head of hair his integrity remained cast in shadow.

Sometimes, the human asked questions that she gave no answer to at all. After minutes of silence, he would resort to cheesy jokes.

But some of that cheese was goddamn funny, enough that she couldn't stop herself from giggling.

All that did was encourage him.

She tried to change the subject. If the human was going to run his stupid mouth and show off his ability to shine his stupid Light, she needed to seize the conversation. She should to be the one asking questions.

" _What happened to Sabrina_?"

"I don't know exactly," he told her. "All I know is my mother's gone and I can't contact her. She wasn't at the Gym, she won't answer my texts, return my calls. Albina says she was kidnapped by Team Rocket and I'm inclined to believe her." Grunting, he smiled weakly. "They tried to snag me too and take my purple hair and me who knows where. Koga, a member of the Indigo League Elite Four…you know who he is right?"

Desiree nodded. Of course she did. On the Holo Caster her Dark Sister sounded happy, so happy to have imprisoned the Ninja Master.

Happy. At least she thought so.

"Well," Lucian continued, "that motherfucker was sent to carry out that task personally. He's working for them. For Team Rocket. The old bastard climbed through my bedroom window, had Poison type Pokémon, overconfident henchman backup, a fucking van parked outside…wrinkles on his fucking face. There was no mistaking that face. Withered and old. It was Koga. Luckily, your sister and this furry badass over here intervened."

Later, she asked him about their financial situation. " _How much money do we have_?"

"About a million bucks," the attractive male human answered. "Albina let me borrow it..." Shame crossed his face before fading as he said, "Honestly, it's a very generous amount of money, enough to get us by for a while. Still, tomorrow I'd like to try and find a source of income. While searching for my mom, maybe we can find something on the side, like some freelance work or even hold down a job."

" _What is my sister doing_?"

"She is busy looking at the bigger picture," Lucian explained. "I know your sis told you about the case she's working on. That's why you're here I suppose, to assist me with a fraction of it…Anyhow, I guess you could say she's looking at the bigger picture while you, Alabaster, and I will be lowering our magnifying glasses a bit closer."

Within one day her Dark Sister had him eating out of her hands. Desiree knew she wasn't nearly as talented an actress, but she wondered if she too could wrap him around her finger. Without being able to read his mind, she felt uncertain of how to go about doing that. Furthermore, she felt frightened. Frightened of failing her sister and the Legion, but even more so of not being able to gauge his secrets and discover the true identity lurking behind that attractive mask.

Humans were puzzles, and contrary to what they believed they were not very hard to figure out.

Lucian was an exception. How could she put him all together when she couldn't find any of the pieces? How come she couldn't read his goddamn mind?

She wasn't hungry, but he insisted on buying her something to eat. He wanted to dine out with her and Alabaster, but she wanted to stay in the room.

They stayed.

He ordered dinner. He asked her again what she wanted.

" _I already told you moron, I'm not hungry_."

To her disbelief, he found her calling him a  _moron_  'hilarious.' She would have stopped calling him that altogether if it wasn't for his smile. Whenever he smiled at her she tried to look away as quickly as possible, but sometimes her vision lingered. And sometimes, when she looked away, she would steal a peripheral glance and hope his perfect teeth would still be bared.

Despite her vehement rebuff, Lucian ordered a meal for all of them, Desiree included. The human and the Ninetails were dining together, sitting in chairs side-by-side, the former's lanky elbows nicking furry shoulders. They were chatting, laughing, sometimes howling with the latter. What were they best friends or something?

Almost in spite of his being a high-ranking Overseer in the Legion, it was no secret that Alabaster harbored some amount of amity for humans. It wasn't a prerequisite to espouse hatred for them if a Pokémon was interested in joining the Legion, that or even rise up the ranks as the Ninetails had swiftly done. Not all Legionnaires reviled humanity; just most of them, for most of the Pokémon there had suffered terribly at the hands of vile human scum.

Desiree was on the fence about how she felt about them. Mostly empty, hollow, but sometimes she wondered how she really felt. And more importantly, how she should.

After what Albina told her about the ancient Ninetails, how human wars had claimed the lives of so many he had loved, that Blaine his former Master had betrayed him, that Team Rocket had conducted horrific experiments on him in an attempt to replicate his Drought ability, one might think he would harbor enmity for humans that rivaled that of Apollyon or even Master Malamar.

None loathed humanity more than Master Malamar, Lord of Light and Dark as well as the founder and undisputed Lord of the Pokémon Legion. Malamar's global confrontation with humanity was on the horizon. His Hunters had worked zealously to harvest some of the strongest Pokémon Trainers around the world. Bureaucrats, military officials, and corporate executives were also under his spell. Some of these more high-up humans Lord Malamar and The Council directly controlled.

Of course above all else there was The Gate and the preeminent power that dwelled inside, locked up in self-exile. Legend held that Red had convinced the Pokémon beyond The Gate to lift the seal and fight for his cause.

That's why Desiree was there with Lucian. If Red was capable, perhaps his bastard son was too.

The Gate. War. Puppeteering humans. Changing the world. Upending humanity. These things frightened the Gardevoir. She feared changed. But what else was she supposed to do? She had nothing and no one. She wanted nothing and no one. Well not nothing, not really. She wanted to feel something. Pleasure, fun, those were nice whenever she stumbled upon them.

But at the moment, nothing. Just cold. No remorse. Besides, it's not like she had a choice.

As Lucian and Alabaster dined and chatted at the square table, the human asked the Gardevoir one more time if she wanted to join in on the 'fun.'

Fun? She wished she could lock herself in the bathroom and get smacked out on some Stirring.

Lying down on the bed, her head resting upon a soft pillow, she refused as politely as she could.

He was persistent. He wanted her to sit at the table next to him.

She declined, this time emphatically.

"Alright, but you're missing out," Lucian whispered with disappointment in his voice and on his face before turning back to Alabaster.

She had never seen the Ninetails so loquacious.

Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore, their intensive conversations, buoyant mirth, nascent relationship, and the fact that she couldn't lie cozily underneath the sheets and read his goddamn mind like a bedtime story.

"Guys," she said, sullen but trying not to appear like it as she arose upright in bed. "I've had a bad day. Can we go to sleep soon?"

At the beam of her Light, Lucian turned in his chair with frantic zest. Bordered by two thick throngs of purple hair, his face blemished when he spoke aloud. "Sorry you had a bad day," he said, his voice laced with sympathy for her as well as a tinge of personal hurt, like her having a bad day indicated she wasn't very happy to see him.

She was happy to see him. At least she was pretty sure. Frightened, miserable, but quite possibly happy too. Maybe. She didn't really understand the meaning of the word, but the tingly feeling in her stomach which spawned the moment she saw his purple eyes and hair at the Magnet Train Station was still there, having never left.

Looking back to the Ninetails before returning his gaze to her, Lucian began to nod in understanding. "How could I be so dense?" he mumbled almost incoherently, his face full of disgrace.

"We can conclude this discussion tomorrow, when the sky father has risen," Alabaster whispered. "As for our meal, I believe human magic can preserve it."

"It's called refrigeration," Lucian said wryly. The tiny smile which surfaced waned quickly. Violet eyes never abandoned orange. Still looking her over, he commented worriedly, "Your eyes look heavy," before approaching the bed. "You wanna go to sleep now? You're already hitting the hay. I suppose all you have to do now is close your eyes." Hovering there above him, his crotch was right in front of her face. Desiree's fin pounded as she nodded feebly. She kept demurring from his gaze but whenever she did her vision settled on his crotch, thus causing her to alternate between the two.

Lucian made haste. He brushed his teeth, flushed the toilet, and before long he exited the bathroom wearing nothing but orange boxers.

Orange eyes struggled to stop ogling. His muscles weren't bulging, but he was much more than toned. In the dim lamplight she could tell his body was rock hard. Broad shoulders, defined pecs, washboard abs, oh goddammit!

"Good night, Desiree," Lucian said as he climbed into his bed, the one closer to the door.

" _You forgot to turn off the light moron_ ," she said brusquely just as he was making himself comfortable.

" _I'll take care of it_ ," Alabaster whispered as he scurried to the table in between the two beds. With his longest tail, the one in the middle he expertly reach underneath the lamp shade and twisted the switch.

Shadow swallowed the room. Not pitch black, but very little moonlight found splits in the window curtains.

"Yo, Alabaster," Lucian whispered in the dark. "Jump up here and make yourself comfortable."

" _I don't sleep, human_."

"I know but you're a badass. Maybe some of your badassery will rub off on me. Come on up here on the bed."

" _As you wish_ …" Desiree didn't see the old fox leap, but she did hear him land deftly on the springy mattress. After a few seconds, Alabaster whispered with clear bashfulness in his voice, "Thank you, human."

"Don't mention, buddy. You belong on a bed, not the floor…Damn! I forgot to set the clock!"

" _Do not worry, warm human. I can stir you from slumber. What time shall I awaken you_?"

"Hmm, Desiree what works for you?"

" _Whatever_ ," the Gardevoir squeaked. Her fin was still pounding.

"Let's do seven-thirty sharp," Lucian declared. "Early, trust me I know, but we've got a big day ahead of us. Hmm, wait…we need at least nine hours of beauty sleep. How about eight O'clock? That okay with you Dez?"

"Okay."

"Awesome sauce. Alright, good night Pokémon!"

" _Sweet dreams, human_."

The Gardevoir said nothing as she rolled over in bed, turning her back on the two of them as she focused and waited.

Before long, the human's breathing slowed. Only when she knew he was fast asleep did she make her move.

With deft silence, she peeled the sheets off and very cautiously, timidly, arose. Rarely allowing her eyes to shut for fear that even flirting with rest might cause her mind and body to inadvertently fall asleep, long had her senses adapted to the prevailing dark. Besides the green numbers of the digital clock, she could also very clearly discern most other objects in the room, including both beds. The stark white sheets were bright as was the large lump of fur at the end of Lucian's mattress. The Ninetails' sleek form shone silver in the faint light.

She rounded her bed and crept stealthily and silently to the other one.

Starting at the base, she easily noticed where the human body began. She sailed a few inches over him, passing first his big, bulging feet beneath the sheets before slinking further up his lanky form. As she propelled her body above the bed using psychokinesis, she also had to hold onto the cuts of her gown for fear of them brushing against the human and rousing him awake.

Underneath the sheet Lucian remained lax and comatose. Though he had fallen asleep on his left side, a little bit earlier she had listened to him flip over on his right. It took her a few minutes to summon the courage to climb to his face, round and pale like the moon in the darkness.

Orange eyes inches from his cheek, she had to make sure her bangs didn't make contact with his skin.

Hovering above, she listened to his breathing. Constant and shallow, his mind already entrenched deep into the abyss. Unbeknownst to him, she was going to pay his dreams a visit.

Before she cast Dream Eater and crawled inside his devilishly reclusive mind, she watched him for seconds which turned into minutes with bloodshot eyes.

How she wished the circumstances were different.

" _And what exactly might you be doing_?"

The Gardevoir just barely stifled a squeal. Lying there still as a statue on the bottom corner of the bed was Alabaster the Ninetails. Stagnant though very much awake, his crimson eyes blazed with curiosity. Ninetails could sleep of course, but Alabaster was an exception. His mind, his Light, was too devastated to enjoy any semblance of nocturnal peace.

" _Goddammit_ ," Desiree whispered with a blend of relief and vexation, " _you scared the crap outta me Overseer_!"

" _You did not answer my question. Tell me, why the migration in the middle of the night_?"

Why the crap was he being interrogative? Gulping audibly before responding, she whispered candidly, " _I'm going to eat his dreams_."

" _And why would you be resorting to such a desperate ploy?_ " the Ninetails asked pleasantly.  _Quite a precarious place you're in right now, wouldn't you agree? My Light wonders what would happen if Lucian were to wake up and find you._ "

Desiree's vision met the closed eye lids of the human before returning to the red orbs glowing in the black fog. " _I have to do this, I don't have a choice Overseer. I can't explore his mind. It's completely dark. Okay not completely, but dimmer than that of most humans. I can hardly find anything inside him_."

" _Ah, so it is true then. His Light is safe, even from you_."

Why did he sound so pleased about this disconcerting fact?

For a moment, something devious crossed her mind. Alabaster's mind was a labyrinth she had never dared infiltrate. But here and now, his cognition was clear and focused. He was hiding something from her, bits and pieces pertaining to this human, valuable Intel he for whatever reason had not yet offered to share with her.

She almost did it. Only her thinking twice about the ramifications constrained her bending Light into him. If the Overseer somehow discovered she had intruded upon his mind, he would be furious.

" _Okay_ ," she whispered with palpable desperation and sprinkles of resentment, " _You know something about him that I don't_."

" _Lucian is not like other humans. He is special_."

" _Okay, not helping. Tell me more, please?_ "

" _Certainly. His mind is black but his heart is very warm. But you already know this, I know you do. You, Gardevoir, can feel the kindness radiating from his heart just as I can_."

"I guess," she admitted rather ruefully.

When the Ninetails spoke, his small voice also sounded sad. " _Much of that warmth he wishes to give to you_."

Desiree scowled in the dark. "What the crap is that supposed to mean?" she asked, trying not to sound vexed but failing.

" _My eyes are watching, my ears always listening. He cares for you very deeply. Yes, he does. And I do believe you hold warm feelings for him as well. As a side note, the tension between you two kits is as clear to me as sunlight shining in my eyes._ "

Talk about an inappropriate and thoroughly unprofessional joke.

Anger surged inside the Gardevoir's fin then. Rage mixed with embarrassment. How did he know? Mortified, she wanted to scream to the heavens, to invoke human speech and curse aloud. " _I have no idea what you're talking about_ ," she lied, trying to keep her telepathic voice calm and steady. " _Stop teasing me, it's not true and you're not helping_."

" _Not helping, eh? We'll see about that_!"

Without warning, to her utter shock there in the middle of the dim and silent night she saw something move. A curly tendril slithered across the mattress like a snake. Upon reaching the bulge of a large human foot that snake lightly nudged against it.

"Goddammit  _Alabaster_!" Desiree cried, absolutely incredulous of his goading. " _What the crap are you doing_?"

" _Just a little experiment. Perhaps you two kits will thank me for this someday_."

" _Please, don't_!" she implored as the Ninetails precariously roused Lucian's deep slumber. He was doing that on purpose, what the fuck was the matter with him? Whose side was he on? Hovering just a few inches above the human, she was trapped. Any sudden movements from her and he might wake up–

"Desiree?"

The middle spike jutting from a Gardevoir's cheek was actually her ear. With her head turned, her ear opposite of Lucian's lips, his gruff, groggy voice sounded to her like thunder.

In her instant fright she completely lost her levitation balance and literally sunk down directly on top of him, her willowy frame plunging onto his larger one.

Head-butting him, they were both lucky her triangular tuft of hair diminished the impact. Nonetheless, if he was half-asleep before he was wide awake now.

The Gardevoir hadn't a clue what to do or say, but she did stop herself from absconding to the furthest corner of the room, electing to brace herself instead. Confused and lying there on top of his confusion, she wished more than anything that she could read his mind and discern exactly what he was thinking. Whatever the case, she just had to wait for him to respond. No conjecture and zero explanation, not yet, just remain as calm and composed as possible and react accordingly.

"Am I dreaming?" he crooned.

What the crap? Maybe he wasn't as roused as she thought. Wait, what was that? Oh god no…

Roused? Maybe not completely. Aroused? Yes, definitely yes. There was no mistaking that for what it was. Her pelvis pressed up against his, his pressed up against hers, a giant medal rod began prodding excitedly against her nether regions.

Instinct took over. Suddenly, abruptly she wanted this, she wanted feel something good to help her forget everything that was bad. " _This is a dream_ ," she said, her voice hopeful and scratchy. Now trying her best to sound seductive, she whispered, " _Do you want me, Lucian_?"

"Yeah," he rasped instantly.

Long arms tangled around her back and waist and compressed gently, pressing her petite yet plump bosom even closer than it already was against his broad, muscled torso. Throbbing uncontrollably, his stiff, full-scale erection showed no signs of dying down. He repositioned her featherweight body slightly, so it had room to breathe.

Their heads touching like two bumper cars, Lucian's human nose nested in her long bangs as her lips hovered inches from his. She could tell he wanted to kiss her. She wanted him to do it.

All she wanted was pleasure.

Closing her eyes and tilting her head slightly, the Gardevoir puckered her lips, anxiously waiting.

" _Kiss me, Lucian_ ," she whispered pleadingly.

Their mouths converged. He pecked her.

It happened so fast and yet, she savored it like it was her first, for it was the first she ever truly wanted. To her chagrin, she began blushing so hard she was convinced he could feel the sweltering heat radiating off her cheeks.

He kissed her tenderly again, a close lipped reunion which made her entire body quiver in ecstasy. She wanted more. Her lips parted and an insatiable tongue leapt out and tasted him. When she licked his lips, the rod underneath the sheet lurched hard against her hip.

He wanted her badly. His body's obvious appetite was all the permission Desiree needed. Her hand slipped beneath the sheet and slunk down his naked chest, appreciating the rough ridges and hard curvature before stumbling upon flimsy fabric. As the tip of her fingers began to dig under the crest of his boxer shorts, one of Lucian's hands folded around hers.

"Wait, Dez," he said, his tone hushed. Five human digits stole Desiree's hand away. Fastened together, he placed their hands on his sternum. "Too fast, way too fast," he told her.

" _But this is a dream_ ," she emphasized in disappointment.

"I wish it wasn't."

Desiree sighed deeply. "Say-ame here," she mumbled before her fin beat began to accelerate. Not just because it was the truth, but also because she inadvertently articulated that fact.

"Now I know this is a dream," Lucian chuckled woozily. "You just spoke – Out loud."

_Goddamn, that was close_ , the Gardevoir thought as she reinitiated her sexual craving. She took his hand, their hands, and brought them this time over to her body.

"Can you see?" she asked, resuming her telepathy.

"Not very well."

She slid the back of his broad hand firmly against her breasts. Then, rubbing his knuckles against a pert, stiff-standing nipple behind the fabric of her bodice, she asked coyly, "You know what that is, Lucian?"

"Your chesticles?"

"Yeah!"

"Is it cold in here Dez?"

"No, I'm just really turned on right now. Wanna see how much?"

"I still can't see," he said, his voice shaky, his heart probably racing about as fast as her fin was vibrating as she took his hand, this time the back of it and swept his dry, rough palm slowly, sensually across her breasts. As she took him on an almost unbearably slow journey over her bare stomach, she stopped at her navel and showed his fingers her belly button piercing. His already trembling hand began to shudder as they reached the fabric of her gown.

The cloth was thin, thinner than the sheet on the bed. Together, they crept lower. Lucian's arm was lanky, so she took his hand as far as his elbow would allow, exploring the slim curvature of her leg and teasing him by twining his fingers through the folds of her dress so he could touch her smooth skin. Then, they traveled back up, running along the inside of her leg before settling on the wet spot between the both of them. When she did, that damp spot dampened yet further as her lungs expelled a soft moan.

"Whoa, slow down aberration Desiree!" With surprising resistance, he confiscated her hand once again and returned it all the way up to his torso.

Disappointment surged inside the Gardevoir once again until the foreign fingers of Lucian's other hand meshed inside her hair and he gently pressed her head down to his chest. Her cheek spikes were blunt, the pointy flaps soft and supple. An ear over his pec, perched above his human heart, she listened for many minutes to the drum which gradually began to calm.

In doing so, her pulsating fin relaxed. Moisture never left her vagina. As the minutes ticked by she was still incredibly turned on, but lying there on top of him, upon his rock solid yet comfy chest she felt something she had never felt before. A sense of belonging.

"Aberration Desiree?"

" _Yah, Lucian_ ," she whispered. Heavy orange eyes were fluttering, closing then opening and then closing again as her mind mellowed.

"Are you mad at me?" she heard him ask. There was more than a touch of sorrow in his voice.

" _Why would I be mad at you_?" she probed.

"You know, for…letting you down when we were kids?"

" _I'm not mad at you_ ," she confessed surely. Her face itching, she scratched it against his chest. " _It wasn't your fault. I just wish things turned out different_."

"Me too," he whispered in a way that signified he was drifting back into the abyss. "I let you down when we were younger. I won't let that happen again."

" _You promise_?" she asked, also in a bit of a daze.

"Cross my heart."

Suddenly, someone rocked the boat. The boat being the bed, everything shook slightly. Following that tremor there was the low thud of something landing gracefully on the floor below.

Seconds later, eye shutting pain.

The lamp next to the bed sprayed everything with a blinding yellow. The pupils of the two quasi-lovers lying in the bed were not at all ready to be shown the light.

Alabaster was sitting down on the floor, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, watching and listening. What the crap? That sly fox!

"Desiree?" a familiar male voice groaned.

Blinking rapidly it took her several seconds to confront the violet eyes mere inches from her own.

"What the flying fuck is going on?" Lucian spluttered incredulously as he glared at her. He looked a congruent mixture of nervous and alarmed with her still lying there on top of him, her chin resting over his heart and her supple breasts pressed up snugly against his chest. They were still holding hands and Desiree was too shell-shocked to squirm away.

"You told me I was dreaming!" Lucian cried. "I'm a really heavy sleeper and a…a vivid dreamer and I thought…I mean you're really, really pretty and feminine and the legs underneath your gown are so long and I started having weird, insane thoughts about them as I started snoozing…err, fuck that sounds bad, uh, not like that, nothing nasty just romantic…err friendly, friendly and completely platonic thoughts about your legs…oh god I should just stop talking…wait, unless…I'm still dreaming! Of course!"

Two obstinate fingers dove down to his lower arm where they proceeded to pinch. Hard too, Desiree saw the whole thing as she had a front row seat. In fact, below the arm he assaulted his hand was still clasped tightly around her own. Pinching his skin until he winced, those human fingers next felt for his lips before he licked them several times. "We did kiss," he whispered after tasting reality.

"Twice," Alabaster's oddly satisfied voice chimed in. "You know, for a few minutes back there, I thought I was lost in a dream. And I can't sleep. I've observed some strange things in the stretch my ember has endured. A Gardevoir and a human getting frisky, however? That, I can't say I was expecting that."

"This is not what it looks like, Alabaster!" Lucian shouted messily. A speculative look developed on his face as he uttered quietly, almost speculating to himself, "Or is it?"

" _Oh goddammit_!" Desiree cried telepathically as she flailed and fumbled around on top of the human before finally scrambling off of him. The Gardevoir's cheeks flushing from rage, embarrassment, and the fear of not having the faintest idea of what was going to happen next, she sailed as fast as she could to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Why? Why did Alabaster do it? Now Lucian was going to…she didn't know what he was going to do next! His mind was dark. All she wanted to do was eat the human's dreams and start figuring him out. Everything was ruined. This was all Alabaster's fault!

Worst of all, those goddamn knots in her stomach refused to go away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it. Please give kudos and leave comments!


End file.
